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CAPTURE  OF  THE  TRAIN  IN  AN  ENEMY’S  CAMP. 


THE 


GREAT  LOCOMOTIVE  CHASE 


A HISTORY  OF  THE 

ANDREWS  RAILROAD  RAID 

. Into  Georgia  in  1862 


WILLIAM  PITTENGER 

A Member  of  the  Expedition 


FOURTH  EDITION— SEE  NEXT  PAGE 


^ THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCIX 


THE  GREAT  LOCOMOTIVE  CHASE. 


Fourth  Edition,  completely  rewritten  and  greatly  enlarged.  The  first  edition  was 
published  in  1863,  under  the  title,  “ Daring  and  Suffering the  second  in  1881,  under 
the  title,  Capturing  a Locomotive  the  third  in  1887. 

“ One  of  the  best  and  most  exciting  books  we  ever  read.” — Grand  Army  Record, 

A vivid  and  authentic  account  of  Andrews’  railroad  raid — a most  daring  adventure.” 
— TVie  Actfs,  Chicago.  ' ' - 

‘‘  This  is  a narrative  of  one  of  the  wildest  and  most  thrilling  adventures  of  the  war.” 
— The  Evening  Post,  N.  Y.  City. 

“ There  is  no  parallel  in  history  to  this  undertaking  of  Andrews  in  an  enemy’s 
country.” — Commercial  Gazette,  Cincinnati,  O. 

“ This  book  is  unsurpassed  for  its  sustained  interest.  One  cannot  begin  it  without 
reading  it  through.” — The  Hartford  Courant. 

“ It  is  a romance  as  thrilling  as  any  exploit  in  the  days  of  chivalry,  and  the  fact  that 
it  is  true  does  not  dull  its  brilliancy.” — Cleveland  Leader.  ; ’ ' 

“ A series  of  advevitures  equaled  by  no  war  history,  and  the  book  will  have  as  lasting 
qualities  as  ‘Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin.’  ” — Philadelphia  Times. 

“ The  enterprise  was  the  most  daring  *ever  conceived,  and  was  carried  out  with  equal 
courage,  though  ill-fated  as  to  results.”—  Chicago  Times. 

“So  thrillingly  and  gra[)hically  told  that  the  reader’s  pulses  tingle  as  his  fancy  accom- 
panies this  wild  expedition.” — The  Covrier,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 

“ The  realism  of  the  author  reminds  one  of  Tolstoi  and  his  military  pictures  in  the 
forms  of  both  history  and  romance.”— T/ie  Eagle,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

“ Despite  its  tragic  termination  it  shows.what  a handful  of  brave  men  could  undertake 
in  America.” — Comte  de  Paris^  History  of  the  Civil  War,  vol.  2,  p.  187. 

Daring  and  Suffering  ’ should  be  read  by  every  American  boy,  that  be  may  see 
what  deeds  of  daring  Americans  will  do  for  love  of  country.” — The  Republican,  Wash- 
ington, D.  C.  . , 

“ It  was  all  the  deepest  laid  schetne,  and  on  the  grandest  scale,  that  ever  emanated 
from  the  brains  of  any  number  of  Yankees  combined.” — The  Southern  Coifederacy  (At- 
lanta, Ga.),  April  I5th,  1862. 

“The  expedition,  in  the  daring  of  its  conception,  had  the  wildness  of  a romance; 
while  in  the  gigantic  and  over  whelming  results  it  sought  and  was  likely  to  obtain,  it 
was  absolutely  sublime.” — J udge-A dvocate-Genkral  Holt’s  Official  Bepokt. 

“ This  expedition  has  been  so  nearly  forgotten  that  the  public  ought  to  be  under  great 
obligations  to  Mr.  Pittenger  for  recording  at  length  the  bravery  and  endurance  of  those 
who  participated  in  it.  While  such  men  exist  the  republic  may  never  fear  for  its 
safety.” — The  Sun,  N.  Y.  City. 

“ The  Story  of  the  Andrews  Railroad  Raid  must  always  be  one  of  the  most  pictur- 
esque, thrilling  and  moving  episodes  of  the  rebellion,  and  though  tlie  facts  were  made 
public  many  years  ago  by  the  author  of  the  work  before  us,  this  exhaustive,  revised  and 
expanded  narative  will  be  received  with  the  hearty  welcome  it  deserves.  ‘ Daring  and 
Suffering’  is  indeed  a remarkable  book,  not  only  for  its  matter,  but  for  the  manner  of 
its  recital.  It  deserves  to  lake  its  place  with  the  most  notable  histories  of  imprison- 
ment and  escape.” — Tribune,  N.  Y.  City. 


Copyright,  1893,  by  William  Pittenger;  1887,  by  the  War  Publishing  Co.  ; 1868,  by  J.  W. 

Daughaday. 


gjeMcation. 

To 

THE  GRAND  ARMY  OF  THE  WEST 

WHICH.  UNDER  COMMAND  OF  GENERAL  SHERMAN,  IN  ONE  HUNDRED  DAYS  OF  CON- 

TINUOUS  BATTLE, 

KOIvIvOWKD  XJS 

OVER  THE  LINE  OF  THE  GEORGIA  STATE  RAILROAD 

FROM 

CHATTANOOGA  TO  ATLANTA, 

AND 

CONQUERED  WHERE  WE  ONLY  DARED. 

THIS 

FRAGMENT  OF  HISTORY  IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  AND  FRATERNALLY 

INSCRIBED  BY 

THE  WRITER  AND  HIS  COMRADES 

OF  THE 

ANDREWS  RAID. 


9 0.6^ 


PARTICIPANTS  IN  THE  RAIB). 


Executed  June  'jth^  1862  : James  J.  Andrews,  Leader. 


Executed  June  iSt/t^  1862  : 

William  Campbell,  from  Salineville,  O.  Perry  G.  Shabrack,  Co.  K,  2d  O. 

George  D.  Wilson,  Co.  B,  2d  O.  Samuel  Slavens,  33d  O. 

Marion  A.  Ross,  Co.  A,  2d  O.  Samuel  Robertson,  Co.  G,  33d  O. 

John  Scott,  Co.  K,  21st  O. 


Escaped  October  i6tk^  1862  : 


Wilson  W.  Brown  (Engineer),  Co.  F,  21st  O. 
William  Knight  (Engineer),  Co.  E,  21st  O. 

J.  R.  Porter,  Co.  C,  21st  O. 

Martin  J.  Hawkins,  Co.  A,  33d  O. 


Mark  Wood,  Co.  C,  21st  O. 
J.  A.  Wilson,  Co.  C,  21st  O. 
John  Wollam,  Co.  C,  33d  O. 
D.  A.  Dorsey,  Co.  H,  33d  O. 


Exchanged  March  \Zth^  1863  : 


Jacob  Parrott,  Co.  K,  33d  O. 
Robert  Buffum,  Co.  H,  21st  O. 
William  Bensinger,  Co.  G,  21st  O. 


William  Reddick,  Co.  B,  33d  O. 
E.  H.  Mason,  Co.  K,  21st  O. 
William  Pittenger,  Co.  G,  2d  O. 


BUSINESS  AND  POST-OFFICE  ADDRESSES  IN  1893  OF  THE 
SURVIVORS  OF  THE  RAID. 

1.  Wm.  Knight,  Stationary  Engineer  and  Lecturer,  Stryker,  Williams  Co.,  O. 

2.  Capt.  Jacob  Parrott,  Farmer,  Kenton,  O, 

3.  Lieut.  D.  A.  Dorsey,  Dealer  in  Real  Estate,  Kearney,  Neb. 

4.  Capt.  Wm.  Bensinger,  Farmer,  McComb,  Wood  Co.,  O. 

5.  Lieut.  J.  R.  Porter,  Dry  Goods  Merchant,  Ingall’s  P.  O.,  Payne  Co.,  Oklahoma. 

6.  Lieut.  Wm.  H.  Reddick,  Farmer,  Newport,  Louisa  Co.,  Iowa. 

7.  J.  A.  Wilson,  Grocer,  Perryville,  Wood  Co.,  O. 

8.  Capt.  W.  W.  Brown,  Farmer,  Dowling,  Wood  Co.,  O. 

9.  Capt.  E.  H.  Mason,  Pemberville,  O. 

10.  Wm.  Pittenger,  Preacher,  of  the  Southern  California  Methodist  Episcopa 
Conference,  now  stationed  at  Colton,  Cal. 


11.  Lieut.  Mark  Wood,  died  in  Toledo,  O.,  in  1867. 

12.  Lieut.  Robert  Buffum,  died  in  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  Insane  Asylum,  July  20th,  1871. 

13.  Lieut.  Martin  J.  Hawkins  died  in  Quincy,  111.,  Feb.  7th,  1886. 

14.  John  Wollam,  died  at  Topeka,  Kan.,  Sept,  25th,  1890. 


PREFACE 


rHIS  book,  which  is  partly  historical  and  partly  personal,  is  writ- 
ten from  the  standpoint  of  frank  egotism.  It  is  far  more  easy 
to  tell  what  the  writer  thought,  felt  and  did,  in  the  first  person,  than 
to  resort  to  tedious  circumlocution.  As  a large  part  of  the  interest 
of  such  a narrative  must  consist  in  describing  the  sensations  experi- 
enced in  passing  through  such  appalling  dangers  and  tremendous 
vicissitudes  of  fortune,  it  is  clear  that  in  a work  of  plain  fact  the 
writer  cannot  avoid  making  himself  more  prominent  than  his  com- 
rades. His  own  emotions  and  the  incidents  in  which  he  partici- 
pated will  be  indelibly  engraven  in  his  memory,  while  impressions 
received  at  second  hand  grow  dim  with  the  passage  of  years.  It 
also  happened  that,  in  most  cases  where  selection  was  practicable, 
the  writer  was  made  the  spokesman  of  the  whole  party,  and  was 
thus  brought  into  more  frequent  contact  with  both  friend  and  foe. 
Many  instances  of  this  will  be  noticed  all  through  the  story. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  in  the  citation  of  authorities.  The 
writer  has  not  hesitated  to  claim  for  his  own  notes  and  memories 
the  full  weight  to  which  they  are  entitled,  and  has  carefully  indi- 
cated the  sources  froni  which  he  has  drawn  all  other  facts.  In  no 
portion  of  war  history  of  equal  magnitude  is  there  more  abundant 
material  preserved  both  on  the  Federal  and  the  Confederate  sides. 
This  is  indicated  by  the  accompanying  list  of  authorities  ; and 
authority  for  separate  incidents  is  adduced  either  in  notes  or  at  the 


6 


Preface. 


beginning  of  chapters.  With  great  care  in  sifting  testimony 
and  constant' references  to  original  documents,  the  writer  hopes 
not  only  to  give  the  exact  and  literal  truth,  but  to  carry  the  con- 
viction of  the  judicious  reader  with  him  on  every  page. 
Whenever  conjectures  or  statements  of  probabilities  are  haz- 
arded to  bridge  any  chasm  in  the  narrative,  they  will  be  offered 
for  what  they  are,  and  always  clearly  separated  from  known 
facts. 

This  Fourth  Edition  contains  considerable  new  matter,  such 
as  the  account  of  the  Ohio  monument  and  the  history  of  the 
Andrews  Raiders  to  date.  New  illustrations  also  have  been 
added.  The  greatest  improvement,  however,  has  been  made 
by  fusing  into  the  continuous  story  all  the  additional  material 
which  had  accumulated  during  the  past  thirty-one  years,  thus 
doing  away  with  the  cumbrous  supplement  of  former  editions. 
It  is  believed  that  no  portion  of  the  civil  war  has  been  more 
fully  and  faithfully  recorded.  Abundant  references  verify 
every  material  statement.  The  writer  hopes  that  this  complete 
and  permanent  edition  will  aid  in  maintaining  for  ''  The  Loco- 
motive Chase  ’V  its  enviable  place  in  the  front  rank  of  all  war 
stories. 

WM.  PITTENGER,  Colton,  Cal.,  Jan.  ist,  1893. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I. 

A Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West  ...... 

PAGE 

15 

II. 

General  Mitchel  and  J.  J.  Andrews  Arrange  a Second  Raid 

25 

III. 

Selection  of  Engineers  and  Soldiers  ...... 

3d 

IV. 

Departure  at  Night  .....  o , 

45 

V. 

Previous  History  of  James  J.  Andrews  ..... 

53 

VI. 

First  Lessons  in  Disguise  and  Duplicity  ..... 

64 

VII. 

The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached  ..... 

73 

VII  [. 

The  Bloodless  Victories  of  Mitchel  ...... 

B? 

IX. 

Capture  of  the  Train  ......... 

97 

X. 

Pursued 

113 

XI. 

An  Appalliijg  Struggle  ........ 

123 

XII. 

The  Final  Race  . . 

143 

XIII. 

What  was  Actually  Accomplished  ...... 

153 

XIV. 

Hunted  in  the  Woods  ........ 

161 

XV. 

A Sad  Sabbath  Morning  ........ 

171 

XVI. 

The  Roll  of  the  Captives  . . . . . . .. 

181 

xvn. 

First  Prison  Experiences  ....... 

203 

XVIII. 

The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga  ...... 

216 

XIX. 

Gleams  of  Hope  ......... 

228 

XX. 

Gen.  Mitchel  Saves  the  Raiders.  ...... 

235. 

XXI. 

A Struggle  Against  Destiny  ....... 

250 

XXII. 

Knoxville  ........... 

264 

XXIII. 

A Day  of  Blood.  ......... 

279 

XXIV. 

After  the  Tragedy  ......... 

29 1 

XXV. 

A Daring  Escape  . . ' . 

306 

XXVI. 

In  Cave  and  Mountain  . 

327 

XXVII. 

The  Loyal  Mountaineers  . . 

334 

XXVIII. 

Down  the  Tennessee.  ........ 

342 

XXIX. 

Floating  to  the  Gulf  ......... 

34B 

XXX. 

The  Recaptured  Prisoners  ........ 

360 

XXXI. 

Richmond  and  its  Prisons.  ....... 

374 

XXXII. 

Last  Experiences  in  Rebel  Prisons  ...... 

386 

XXXIII. 

Homeward  Bound  . . . . . 

397 

XXXIV. 

Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  and  President  Lincoln 

406 

XXXV. 

Subsequent  History  of  the  R.ailroad  Adventurers 

417 

XXXVI. 

The 'South  Revisited  a Quarter  of  a Century  After  . 

425 

XXXVII. 

A Detailed  Account  of  the  First  or  Buell  Railroad  Raid  . 

441 

XXXVIII. 

Autobiography  ......... 

447 

XXXIX. 

XL. 

Editorial  Account  from  the  Southern  Confederacy  . 

Message  of  Gov.  Jos.  E.  Brown  to  the  Legislature  of  Georgia 
in  1862 

455 

464 

XLI. 

Official  Report  by  Judge- Advocate-General  Holt 

465 

XLII. 

Criticisms  of  Generals  Buell  and  Fry  .... 

471 

XLIII. 

The  Reburial  of  Andrews  ....... 

475 

XLIV. 

Proposed  Monument  ........ 

478 

XLV. 

Dedication  of  Ohio  Monument  in  1891  .... 

487 

A PARTIAL  LIST  OF  AUTHORITIES  REFERRED  TO  IN 

0 

“THE  GREAT  LOCOMOTIVE  CHASE/’  ^ 

1.  THE  OFFICIAL  WAR  RECORDS. — These  are  now  in  course  of  publication 
by  the  Government  at  Washington.  They  comprise  four  series,  each  containing  a nurnber 
of  large  volumes.  In  several  of  these  there  are  notices  of  the  Railroad  Raid,  but  the 
principal  account  is  found  in  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  extending  from  page  630  to  639. 

2.  REPORT  OF  WOOD  AND  WILSON  IN  1862.— This  was  made  to  the  Sec- 
retary of  War,  on  Nov.  12th,  1862,  when  the  two  arrived,  as  escaping  prisoners,  at  Key 
West,  Fla.  A fuller  account  by  the  same  persons  was  published  in  the  Key  West,  Fla., 
New  Era,  three  days  later. 

3.  SWORN  TESTIMONY  OF  SURVIVORS.— The  testimony  of  five  of  the  sur- 
vivors, Bufifum,  Bensinger,  Parrott,  Reddick  and  Pittenger  was  taken  under  oath  at  Wash- 
ington, and  phonographically  reported,  by  order  of  Secretary  Stanton.  It  is  still  pre- 
served in  the  Archives  at  Washington. 

4.  THE  FIRST  EDITION  OF  “DARING  AND  SUFFERING.”— This  was 
begun  a short  time  after  the  return  home  of  the  writer,  and  was  founded  mainly  on  personal 
recollections,  aided  by  a few  shorthand  notes.  Several  survivors  also  contributed  personal 
sketches  and  incidents  to  the  book.  It  was  published  in  Philadelphia,  by  J.  W.  Daughaday, 
in  October,  1863.  In  this  book  the  narrative  assumed  its  usual  form. 

5.  UNPUBLISHED  LETTERS  AND  PAPERS  OF  GEN.  O.  M.  MIT- 
CH EL. — These,  as  well  as  an  unpublished  biography  by  himself,  were  generously  placed 
at  my  disposal  by  his  son,  F.  A.  Mitchel,  Esq.  (A  biography  of  Gen.  Mitchel,  “As- 
tronomer and  General,”  embracing  most  of  these  papers,  by  his  son,  is  now  [1887]  pass- 
ing through  the  press  of  Houghton,  Mifflin  & Co.,  Boston.) 

6.  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  ALF.  WILSON,  ONE  OF  THE  MITCHEL 
RAIDERS,  by  J.  A.  Wilson. — Published  in  Toledo,  Ohio.  This  is  especially  valuable 
as  giving  the  marvelous  adventures  of  the  writer  in  escaping  from  prisons. 

7.  CAPTURING  A LOCOMOTIVE,  by  Wm.  Pittenger.— Published  by  J.  B. 
Lippincott,  1881. 

8.  CONDUCTOR  WILLIAM  A.  FULLER. — Accounts  published  by  this  gen- 
tleman, in  The  Sunny  South  and  other  papers,  and  still  more  important  personal  com- 
munications made  to  the  writer,  for  which  due  credit  is  given  in  the  appropriate  places. 

9.  WAR  FILES  OF  SOUTHERN  NEWSPAPERS,  especially  of  the  Atlanta, 
Ga.,  Southern  Confederacy, 

10.  “AN  EPISODE  OF  THE  WAR.” — This  is  an  account  of  some  of  the  most 
important  events  of  this  history  to  which  he  was  an  eye-witness,  by  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott, 
and  is  published  in  a volume  of  essays,  with  a strong  pro-slavery  bias,  entitled,  “ From 
Lincoln  to  Cleveland,”  Atlanta,  Ga.,  1886. 

11.  THE  FOLLOWING  MEMBERS  OF  THE  ORIGINAL  EXPEDITION 
have  each  furnished  me  with  important  manuscripts  as  well  as  verbal  communications : 
D.  A.  Dorsey,  Kearney,  Nebraska;  J.  R.  Porter,  McComb,  Wood  Co.,  Ohio;  William 
Bensinger,  McComb,  Wood  Co.,  Ohio  ; William  Knight,  Stryker,  Williams  Co.,  Ohio  ; 
Jacob  Parrott,  Kenton,  Hardin  Co.,  Ohio;  W.  W.  Brown,  Dowling,  Wood  Co.,  Ohio; 
William  Reddick,  Newport,  Louisa  Co.,  Iowa. 

12.  FRANK  HAWKINS,  Treasury  Department,  Columbus,  Ohio,  and  Captain 
Jas.  F.  Sarratt,  of  Steubenville,  have  furnished  many  written  details  of  the  first  expedition. 

13.  MR.  ANTHONY  MURPHY,  Foreman  of  Repair  Shops  of  the  Western  and 
Atlantic  Railroad.  A very  valuable  written  communication,  descriptive  of  the  chase  on 
the  railroad  was  prepared  for  me  by  this  gentleman. 

14.  THE  ANDREWS  RAIDERS,  by  Frank  M.  Gregg.— Chattanooga, 
1891.  A local  pamphlet  furnishing  many  narratives  of  old  citizens  about  Chat- 
tanooga. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

1.  The  Capture  of  the  Train  in  an  Enemy’s  Camp.  . . Frontispiece 

2.  Map  of  Southern  R.R.  System  Threatened  by  the  Andrews  Raid  . . I2 

3.  Portrait  of  James  J.  Andrews  .........  17 

4.  Photograph  of  Gen.  O.  M.  Mitchel  ........  30 

5.  Photograph  of  Wilson  W.  Brown,  Engineer.  ......  36 

6.  Photograph  of  William  Knight,  Engineer  .......  38 

7.  Photograph  of  Capt.  James  F.  Sarratt . .......  38 

8.  Photograph  of  Marion  Ross.  .........  41 

9.  Photograph  of  William  Pittenger.  ........  45 

10.  Andrews  Seen  by  the  Lightning  Flash  .......  51 

11.  Photograph  of  Flemingsburg,  Ky.  ........  53 

12.  Photograph  of  J.  J.  Andrews  .........  55 

13.  Photograph  of  Miss  Elizabeth  J.  Layton  .......  56 

14.  Photograph  of  Geo.  D.  Wilson  . 67 

15.  Photograph  of  William  Campbell.  67 

16.  Photograph  of  William  Reddick  . ' . . . . . . . . 79 

17.  Preparing  to  Cross  the  Tennessee  River  .......  82 

18.  Map  of  the  Campaign  of  Gen.  Mitchel.  . . . . . . . 88 

19.  Gen.  Mitchel’s  Armed  Train  .........  94 

20.  Map  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  or  Georgia  State  Railroad.  ...  99 

21.  Bed-room  Consultation  at  Marietta  ........  100 

22.  Photograph  of  Capt.  W.  A.  Fuller  (Confederate  Conductor)  . . . 102 

23.  Seizing  the  Train.  . . . ' . . . . . . . . 104 

24.  Photograph  of  John  Scott  ..........  106 

25.  Tearing  up  Track  ...........  109 

26.  Photograph  of  Anthony  Murphy,  Supt.  W.  & A.  Machine  Shops.  . . 116 

27.  Oostenaula  Bridge  . . . 135 

28.  In  Sight ! Ties  Thrown  from  Car  ........  138 

29.  At  the  Wood-station 139 

30.  Kindling  a Fire  in  the  Box-car 146 

31.  Leaving  the  Locomotive  . . . . . . . . . . 151 

32.  Photograph  of  the  Locomotive  “ The  General  ” ......  160 

33.  Climbing  the  Chattanooga  Precipice  . . . . . . . . 164 

34.  News  from  Ringgold  ! .......  . . 180 

35.  Photograph  of  vSamuel  Slavens  .........  181 

36.  Slavens,  Campbell  and  Shadrack  in  Chains  . . . . . . . 182 

37.  Photograph  of  Jacob  Parrott  .........  183 

38  Bloodhounds  Seen  on  the  Trail  . . 185 


List  of  Illustrations, 


' PAGE 

39.  Wood  and  Wilson  on  the  Tennessee  . . . , ...  . 199 

40.  The  Iron  Cage  at  Lafayette,  Ga.  . , . . . . , . 203 

41.  Chained  in  a Carriage.  ..........  208 

42.  Confronted  with  Gen.  Leadbetter  213 

43.  The  Swims  Jail  at  Chattanooga  .........  218 

44.  Manner  of  Sleeping  in  the  Swims  Jail . . . . . . , 220 

45.  The  Chained  Men  Descending  into  the  Dungeon  . , . . . 223 

46.  The  Raiders  Seated  in  the  Cars  .........  238 

47.  “ Meet  me  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan  ” .......  249 

48.  Escape  of  Andrews  and  Wollam  .........  252 

49.  Riveting  Chains  in  the  Dungeon.  . . . . . . . . 256 

50.  Photograph  of  Judge  O.  P.  Temple  266 

51.  Photograph  of  Judge  Baxter  .........  267 

52.  The  Old  Court-house  at  Knoxville,  Tenn.  .......  268 

53.  The  Court  Martial  ...........  271 

54.  Photograph  of  Captain  David  Fry  . . . . . . . . 275 

55.  Photograph  of  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott.  ........  281 

56.  Speech  of  Wilson  on  the  Scaffold  . . . . . . . . 287 

57.  Photo-Lithograph  of  Letter  to  Jefferson  Davis  ......  293 

58.  Photo-Lithographs  of  Endorsements  by  Gen.  Bragg,  Jefferson  Davis  and 

Others  ...........  308,  309 

59.  Photograph  of  Geo.  W.  Walton  . . . . . . . . , 313 

60.  Photograph  of  Robert  Buffum  . . . . . . , . . 317 

61.  Photograph  of  William  Bensinger  ........  318 

62.  Seizing  the  Guard  at  Atlanta  319 

63.  The  Race  in  the  Woods  ..........  323 

64.  Photograph  of  Elihu  H.  Mason  328 

65.  Victory  over  Bloodhounds  ! .........  329 

66.  Brown  and  Knight  Capture  a Pig  . . . . . . . . 331 

67.  The  Fugitives  entering  a Cave  .........  332 

68.  Photograph  of  D.  A.  Dorsey  . . . . . . . . . 334 

69.  Photograph  of  Martin  J.  Llawkins  ........  336 

70.  Photograph  of  John  R.  Porter  .........  342 

7].  Photograph  of  Mark  Wood  .........  348 

72.  At  Sight  of  the  Old  Flag  358 

73.  Photograph  of  Libby  Prisons  . . . . . . . , . 375 

74.  Taking  a Dead  Man’s  Name  .........  391 

75.  Eating  in  the  Engine-room  ..........  40^' 

76.  Fac-simile  of  Congress  Medals  of  Honor  . . . . . . . 412 

77.  Interview  with  President  Lincoln  : “A  little  luck  with  the  battles,  now  !”  . 414 

78.  Photograph  of  W.  W.  Brown  . 418 

79.  Jacob  Parrott  and  D.  A.  Dorsay  overlooking  Chattanooga  . . 419 

80.  Photograph  of  William  H.  Reddick 420 

81.  Photographs  of  Seven  Survivors  of  the  Andrews  Raid  . . . 439 

82.  Photographs  of  Members  of  the  First  Expedition  . . « . 442 

83.  Captured  Locomotive  at  Columbus  G.  A.  R.  Encampment  . . 479 

84.  Ohio  Monument  486 


Southern  Railway  System  threatened  by  the  Andrews  Raid. 


DARING  AND  SUFFERING 

9!Lbf 

CHAPTER  I. 

A SECRET  MILITARY  RAID  IN  THE  WEST. 

IT  is  painful  for  me  to  recall  the  adventures  of  the  year  beginning  April 
7th,  1862.  As  I compose  my  mind  to  the  task  there  rises  before  me 
the  memory  of  days  of  suffering  and  nights  of  sleepless  apprehension, 
— days  and  nights  that  in  their  black  monotony  seemed  well  nigh  eternal. 
And  time  has  not  yet  dulled  the  sorrow  of  that  terrible  day,  when  comrades 
made  dear  as  brothers  by  common  danger  and  suffering  were  suddenly 
dragged  to  a fearful  death  that  I expected  soon  to  share.  A man  who 
has  walked  for  months  in  the  shadow  of  the  scaffold  and  escaped  at  last 
almost  by  miracle  will  never  find  the  experience  a pleasant  one  to  dwell 
upon,  even  in  thought.  Yet  it  cannot  be  forgotten,  and  the  easiest  way  to 
answer  the  inquiries  of  friends,  and  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  public, 
is  to  put  the  whole  matter  candidly,  faithfully,  and  minutelv  on  record. 

In  the  spring  of  1862  a small  secret  expedition  was  sent  from  the 
Union  lines  into  the  very  heart  of  the  Confederate  States.  In  its  progress 
it  aroused  great  excitement,  first  in  the  South  and  afterwards  in  the  North, 
occasioned  the  most  intense  suffering  to  the  soldiers  engaged  in  it,  and 
afterwards  gave  rise  to  many  eager  controversies.  Several  publications  oi 
a more  or  less  ephemeral  character  have  been  devoted  to  it,  and  no  story 
of  the  war  seems  to  have  fixed  itself  so  firmly  in  the  popular  imagination. 
The  present  work  is  the  full  and  complete  edition  of  a small  volume  by 
the  same  writer,  with  the  same  title,  which  was  hurriedly  written  before 
the  freshness  of  personal  impressions  had  faded,  and  while  the  horror  and 
agony  came  back  almost  nightly  in  dreams.  The  writer  is  confident  that 
this  story,  faithfully  told,  will  give  a more  vivid  picture  of  the  spirit,  feel- 
ings, and  awful  earnestness  of  the  civil  war  than  any  more  general  war 
history.  To  do  justice  to  brave  men  who  porished  in  a manner  ignomini- 
ous in  form  but  not  in  reality,  to  place  romantic  and  almost  incredible 
events,  for  which  there  will  soon  be  no  living  witnesses,  upon  a basis  of 


H 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


unquestionable  certainty,  and  to  help  a new  generation  to  realize  the  cost 
of  upholding  the  Union,  is  the  writer's  aim. 

The  manner  in  which  this  volume  was  produced  leaves  little  room  for 
that  unconscious  exaggeration  to  which  even  candid  narrators  are  liable. 
The  writer  made  phonographic  notes  of  the  principal  events  very  near 
the  time  of  their  occurrence,  — mostly  on  the  margins  of  a small  vol- 
ume of  “Paradise  Lost."  There  were  enough  days  of  dreary  leisure  for 
this  or  any  other  kind  of  work  ! On  leaving  the  enemy's  territory,  he  and 
his  comrades  were,  by  order  of  the  Secretary  of  War,  Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
brought  to  Washington,  examined  under  oath,  and  their  answers  written 
down  in  shorthand,  and  officially  published,  together  with  a lengthened 
and  eloquent  report  by  Judge- Advocate-General  Holt.  Immediately  after- 
wards the  small  volume,  ‘^Daring  a7id  Suffermg^^'  was  written  at  the  solici- 
tation of  friends — a crude  and  hasty  sketch  prepared  before  the  author  had 
recovered  from  the  sickness  that  followed  his  unexampled  privations — but 
preserving  the  facts  in  their  freshness,  and  attested  in  its  recital  of  incidents 
by  all  the  survivors  of  the  expedition.  Now  that  twenty-five  years  have 
passed,  and  the  passions  of  war  and  the  bitterness  of  partisanship  have  de- 
clined,— now  that  the  dispatches  and  letters  of  Generals  and  the  captured 
Confederate  archives  are  accessible,  and  that  the  author  has  been  enabled 
to  go  carefully  over  the  whole  ground  and  explore  every  source  of  informa- 
tion, from  friend  or  former  enemy,  it  seems  possible  to  supply  all  the  de- 
ficiencies of  the  earlier  edition  without  diminishing  its  intense  personal  in- 
terest, and  thus  to  furnish  a complete  and  well-rounded  history  of  the  most 
dramatic  adventure  of  the  Great  Civil  War. 

There  were  two  distinct  railroad  raids  into  Georgia,  which  have  some- 
times been  confounded.  The  first  was  authorized  by  Major  General  Buell 
in  March,  1862,  and  sent  out  from  Murfreesboro',Tenn.  The  second  start- 
ing from  Shelbyville,  Tenn.,  in  April  of  the  same  year  under  the  direction 
of  Gen.  O.  M.  Mitchel,  was  larger  and  more  important,  and  had  quite  a 
different  purpose. 

Nearly  everything  which  has  been  published  on  the  subject  refers  to 
the  second  expedition.  I will,  however,  write  the  history  of  the  first  also, 
that  the  relation  between  them  may  be  clearly  seen,  and  all  future  mis- 
understanding be  prevented. 

The  Union  cause  looked  bright  in  the  spring  of  1862.  It  was  nearly 
three  years  before  the  Confederates  saw  again  so  dark  a day.  Our  eastern 
army  under  Gen.  McClellan,  numbering  more  than  100,000,  was  about 
ready  to  advance  on  Richmond.  Gen.  Grant,  after  capturing  Forts  Henry 
and  Donelson,  had  sent  the  bulk  of  his  forces  to  Pittsburg  Landing,  and 
was  hurrying  forward  every  available  man.  Buell  had  occupied  Nashville 
after  the  enemy — because  of  the  capture  of  Fort  Donelson — had  retreated, 
and  was  now  urged  by  Halleck  to  send  a large  part  of  his  force  by  water 


A Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West 


15 


to  reinforce  Grant.-  This  he  declined  to  do,  fearing  that  the  enemy  might 
return  to  Tennessee  and  capture  Nashville;  but  he  at  length  divided  his 
force,  sending  the  larger  portion  by  deliberate  marches  southwest  toward 
Pittsburg  Landing,  and  a single  division  of  about  10,000  under  Gen,  O. 
M.  Mitchel,  supported  by  7,000  more  in  garrison  at  Nashville  and  sur- 
rounding towns,  in  a southeast  direction.  To  oppose  these  powerful 
forces  the  enemy  had  an  army  in  Virginia  not  more  than  one  half  as  large 
as  McClellan’s,  and  in  the  west,  at  Corinth,  the  commands  of  Beauregard 
and  Johnston,  which  were  not  yet  concentrated,  and  were  much  inferior  to 
those  of  Grant  and  Buell.  Gen.  Mitchel  had  no  organized  enemy  in  his 
front,  but  was  marching  into  a country  of  vast  importance  to  the  Confed- 
erates, which  they  were  certain  to  strenuously  defend.  A few  compara- 
tively small  Union  and  Confederate  armies  opposed  each  other  west  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  at  various  points  along  the  sea-coast  and  the  borders, 
with  the  preponderance  usually  on  the  Union  side;  but  these  may,  for 
present  purposes,  be  left  out  of  account.  The  main  rebel  armies,  those 
of  Virginia  and  Mississippi,  were  united  by  a chain  of  railroads  running 
from  Memphis,  Huntsville,  Chattanooga,  Knoxville  and  Lynchburg  to 
Richmond;  and  this  constituted  their  new  and  strong  line  of  defense. 
They  had  indeed  no  other  railroad  communication  except  a very  circuit- 
ous and  precarious  one  along  the  sea  coast.  At  Chattanooga  this  direct 
line  was  intersected  almost  at  right  angles  by  another  extending  from 
Nashville  to  Atlanta,  and  from  there  to  all  parts  of  the  south. 

It  was  the  object  of  the  Union  generals,  while  preserving  all  they  had 
gained,  to  break  this  line,  and  thus  isolate  the  rebel  armies  and  render 
easy  their  defeat  in  detail.  The  first  assault  was  to  be  made  at  Corinth, 
to  which  the  Tennessee  River  formed  an  easy  channel  of  approach.  It 
was  defended  by  a large  army,  for  if  captured,  Memphis  and  all  the  upper 
Mississippi  would  also  fall  into  Union  hands.  Unfortunately,  this  portion 
of  the  West  was  at  that  time  in  two  different  departments  under  the  com- 
mand of  Generals  Halleck  and  Buell, — both  able  strategists  but  slow  and 
timid.  For  fear  of  exposing  Nashville  to  attack,  the  latter  declined  to 
reinforce  Gen.  Grant,  who  was  acting  under  the  orders  of  Halleck,  by 
steamboat  transport  over  the  Cumberland  and  Tennessee  Rivers;  but 
instead  marched  toward  his  position  through  Franklin  and  Columbia. 
With  the  magnified  estimate  Buell  had  formed  of  the  enemy’s  strength  in 
Tennessee,  this  appeared  to  be  the  more  prudent  course;  and  had  the  ad- 
vance been  more  vigorous  and  rapid,  the  imminent  danger  of  disaster  at 
Shiloh  would  have  been  removed.  But  even  with  this  disposition,  Buell 
feared  that  an  army  of  the  enemy  might  concentrate  by  rail  somewhere 
in  the  direction  of  Chattanooga  or  Knoxville,  and  fall  upon  his  rear.  He 
believed"  that  a large  force  was  gathering  at  Atlanta  and  also  in  Eastern 


" Buell  to  Halleck,  Mar.  23,  1862.  War  Records.  Ser.  I.  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  Page  60. 


i6 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Tennessee,  from  which  Nashville  might  be  in  great  danger.  These  appre- 
hensions, which  delayed  and  weakened  his  movement  towards  'Pittsburg 
Landing  and  endangered  Grant,  had  at  least  one  good  effect.  Gen.  Mitchel 
was  detached  from  the  main  army  and  ordered  to  Murfreesboro,  with  a 
primary  view  of  guarding  against  any  Confederate  advance  from  the  South 
or  East;  but  he  was  able  afterwards,  by  using  his  discretionary  power  to  the 
utmost,  to  make  the  brilliant  march  upon  Huntsville  and  to  accomplish 
more  against  the  enemy  than  any  Union  general  with  similar  forces  had 
been  able  to  do  up  to  this  period  of  the  contest. 

While  at  Nashville,  Mr.  J.  J.  Andrews,  a spy  in  the  service  of  Buell, 
proposed  to  that  General  a daring  plan,  which,  if  successful,  would  for  the 
time  effectually  relieve  his  fears  and  render  a very  important  service  to  the 
Union  arms.  He  offered  to  take  a very  small  party  of  fearless  men,  dis- 
guise them  as  Southern  citizens,  conduct  them  to  Atlanta,  where  he  would 
meet  a friend  of  his  who  ran  a locomotive  on  the  Georgia  State  Railroad 
from  Chattanooga;  then  to  ride  with  his  party  as  passengers  to  a favor- 
able point;  there  to  capture  the  locomotive  and  to  cut  the  telegraph  wires 
behind  him;  then  to  run  through  Chattanooga  and  from  this  point  west- 
ward, burning  the  bridges  behind  him,  especially  the  great  one  over  the 
Tennessee  River  at  Bridgeport.  Whether  bridges  were  to  be  burned 
South  of  Chattanooga  or  not  is  a point  that  cannot  now  be  determined;  if 
not,  it  seems  singular  that  Andrews  should  have  conducted  his  men  so  far 
south  as  Atlanta;  neither  is  the  limit  of  his  proposed  operations  westward 
accurately  known.  That  the  complete  success  of  such  a scheme  would 
have  greatly  injured  the  enemy  can  be  seen  at  a single  glance.  It  would 
have  hindered  the  concentration  of  troops  and  supplies  at  Corinth  a week 
or  ten  days  before  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  which  probably  would  not  have 
been  fought.  It  would  have  relieved  Buell  from  his  fears  as  to  a flank  or 
rear  attack,  or  a march  upon  Nashville,  and  probably  have  induced  him 
to  reinforce  Grant  promptly  and  vigorously.  It  would  have  cut  the 
main  communication  for  some  days  or  weeks  between  the  eastern  and 
western  armies  of  the  Confederate  states  at  a most  critical  period.  It  did- 
not  promise  the  greater  positive  results  of  the  second  expedition,  mainly 
because  Gen.  Buell  was  not  looking  toward  rapid  and  aggressive  action  in 
Southern  Tennessee.  But- no  candid  mind  can  question  the  great  impor- 
tance of  the  results  promised,  or  the  daring  character  of  the  man  who 
could  plan  such  work  300  miles  away  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy’s  country. 
We  may  safely  assume  that  the  scheme  originated  with  the  intrepid  spy 
and  not  with  his  cautious  chief. ^ The  former  probably  saw  that  the  com- 
manding General  was  anxious  for  the  destruction  of  the  enemy’s  com- 
munications, and  suggested  the  means  for  accomplishing  that  end.  This 


^ Gen.  Buell  confirms  this  view  in  a private  letter  to  the  writer  January  7,  1887, 


Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West, 


17 


plan  Buell  accepted  the  more  readily  because  it  involved  so  little  risk; 
that  is,  as  Generals  count  risk, — only  the  life  of  a spy  and  eight'  men; 
and  General  Mitchel,  whose  division  was  nearest  the  scene  of  the  proposed 
enterprise,  was  instructed  to  furnish  volunteers  for  the  purpose. 


From  this  point  the  expedition  comes  within  the  direct  knowledge  of  the 
writer.  As  will  be  explained  further  on,  I had  seen  Mr.  Andrews  previous- 


' Gen.  Buell  says  but  six  were  authorized.  In  this  he  is  probably  mistaken,  as  eight 
were  engaged. 


2 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


i8 

ly,  but  did  not  know  his  real  character.  And  there  were  also  reasons 
why  the  2nd  Ohio  Infantry  of  Sill’s  brigade,  Milchel’s  Division/  should 
furnish  all  the  men  required,  and  Co.  G.  of  that  regiment,  to  which  I 
belonged,  one  half  the  number.  These  and  many  other  things  will  be 
made  clear  in  the  narrative  of  the  second  expedition  to  which  this  sketch 
is  but  introductory. 

The  securing  of  volunteers  was  managed  with  the  utmost  secrecy.  In 
addition  to  Generals  Mitchel  and  Sill,  a few  of  the  officers  of  the  2nd 
Ohio  were  informed,  in  outline,  of  what  was  wanted,  and  they  induced 
men  to  meet  Mr.  Andrews;  these,  after  consulting  with  him,  entered  upon 
their  strange  and  hazardous  duties  without  opportunity  to  give  the  slight- 
est hint  to  their  comrades.  To  the  common  soldiers  of  the  regiment  who 
were  not  selected,  the  whole  affair  was  wrapped  in  mystery.  Eight  of  our 
best  men  suddenly  disappeared,  and  we  knew  not  what  had  become  of 
them.  Numberless  were  the  conjectures  that  floated  through  the  camp 
and  were  discussed  around  the  camp-fires.  Some  asserted  that  they  had 
been  sent  northward  to  arrest  deserters;  others  that  they  were  deserters 
themselves  ! But  there  were  few  deserters  to  arrest  at  this  stage  of  the 
contest;  and  the  latter  idea  was  contradicted  by  the  character  of  the  men, 
who  were  among  the  boldest  and  most  faithful  in  the  whole  regiment,  and 
had  been  seen  in  close  and  seemingly  confidential  communication  with 
officers  just  before  their  disappearance.  The  most  frequent  assertion— a 
pure  conjecture,  however,  suggested  by  the  fact  that  they  were  absent 
without  any  leave-taking,  and  that  no  inquiries  were  officially  made  about 
them, — was  that  they  had  turned  spies.  But  this  notion  I did  not  seri- 
ously entertain,  for  sending  such  a number  of  spies  from  the  private 
soldiers  in  the  ranks  of  one  company  seemed  absurd.  At  the  most  I sup- 
posed that  they  had  gone  on  some  scouting  expedition  or  some  attempt  to 
surprise  an  enemy^s  post,  such  as  we  had  been  familiar  with  in  Eastern 
Kentucky  the  year  before.  But  I was  not  long  left  to  my  own  conjectures. 
Indeed  I had  two  reasons  for  urgent  inquiries,  one  solely  personal  and 
not  of  a very  exalted  character,  the  other  less  selfish. 

My  position  in  Co.  G.,  James  F.  Sarratt,  captain,  was  then  that  of 
first  corporal,  and  I was  looking  anxiously  for  promotion  to  the  next  grade 
of  non-commissioned  officers,  that  of  sergeant.  To  a civilian  these  petty 
grades  seem  utterly  unimportant  and  almost  undistinguishable,  but  they 
are  not  so  to  a soldier.  On  many  a lonely  guard  line  and  dark  night  on 
picket,  they  make  all  the  difference  between  commanding  and  being  com- 
manded; and  authority  is  sweet  anywhere.  A sergeant  had  died  at  Nash- 
ville, and  his  place  would  naturally  become  mine  unless  some  one  below 
me  was  considered  more  meritorious,  in  which  case  the  captain  had  the 
authority  to  carry  him,  whether  a lower  corporal  or  only  a private,  over 
my  head  into  the  vacant  sergeantcy.  This  would  have  been  bitterly 


A Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West,  ■ 


19 


distasteful,  not  so  much  because  of  the  increased  wages  and  privileges  of 
a sergeant,  as  because  of  the  humiliation  of  being  considered  less  worthy 
of  promotion  than  a comrade,  inferior  in  rank.  One  of  the  missing  men 
happened  to  be  second  corporal,  a splendid  soldier  in  every  respect,  com- 
petent to  fill  any  position  in  the  company,  and  a great  friend  to  the  cap- 
tain. I had  heard  that  he  might  be  preferred  to  me,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  because  I was  near-sighted.  Now,  some  of  the  members  of  my 
army  mess  said: 

“Pittenger,  when  those  men  come  back  with  feathers  in  their  caps, 
the  captain  will. be  sure  to  make  Surles  sergeant.”  At  the  first  opportunity 
I called  Capt.  Sarratt  aside  and  told  him  what  I had  heard,  and  my  own 
fears.  He  assured  me,  somewhat  impatiently,  that  my  rights  should  be 
cared  for,  and  added,  ‘‘Pittenger,  this  is  a very  little  matter  of  yours.  I 
only  wish  the  men  were  back  in  the  camp  again. 

“But  where  are  they  ? ^’  I asked,  “and  when  will  they  be  back?  I 
would  like  to  know  something  about  it,  especially  for  Mills’s  sake.’^ 

“I  am  not  permitted  to  tell  anything,”  he  responded;  “I  don’t  know 
when  they  will  be  back  myself,  but  I know  that  till  they  do  come  I can’t 
sleep  much.’^ 

The  look  of  weariness  on  his  face  smote  to  my  heart,  and  in  view  of 
such  anxiety  my  errand  looked  utterly  contemptible.  But  my  own  un- 
easiness in  another  direction  was  greatly  increased,  and  when  I left  him, 
with  sincere  apologies,  it  was  with  the  resolve  to  find  out  where  these  men 
were. 

Captain  David  Mitchel  of  Co.  K.,  2nd  Ohio,  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
mine,  and  a distant  relative  of  our  commander.  His  company  had  sup- 
plied one  of  the  missing  adventurers, — my  cousin,  B.  F.  Mills,  who  had 
been  my  messmate  during  the  three  months  service  terminating  with  the 
battle  of  Bull  Run.  It  was  especially  for  his  sake  that  I felt  such  solici- 
tude for  the  absent  men,  and  this,  even  more  than  my  own  interest,  had 
moved  me  to  speak  to  Captain  Sarratt.  I resolved  to  make  an  attempt 
on  Mitchel,  with  stronger  hopes  of  success.  The  opportunity  soon  pre- 
sented itself.  I was  War  Correspondent  of  the  Steubenville  Herald  as 
well  as  soldier — the  letters  being  intended  principally  to  inform  a wide 
circle  at  home  of  the  welfare  of  sons  and  brothers.  It  was  time  to  write 
again  or  there  would  be  anxiety  by  many  a fireside  among  the  Ohio  hills. 
Taking  pencil  and  notebook  I strayed  through  the  level  streets  of  the 
white-tented  city  that  had  suddenly  sprung  up  in  the  level  fields  border- 
ing the  clear  and  beautiful  little  Stone  River.  A congenial  spot  was  found 
on  the  sloping  bank  of  the  stream  and  I sat  down  to  write.  It  was  in  the 
afternoon  of  a beautiful  day,  and  the  bustle  of  the  camp  was  all  around, 
but  not  near. 

The  warm  sunshine  and  the  rest  were  doubly  grateful  after  the  rain- 


20 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


storms  and  hard  marches,  knapsack  laden^  of  the  two  preceding  days. 
Occasionally  I would  look  around  to  note  the  occupations  of  the  soldiers, 
either  in  the  camp,  or  strolling  along  the  river.  But  I was  especially 
attracted  by  the  view  presented  a short  distance  down  the  stream,  where 
stood  the  ruined  fragments  of  a railroad-bridge  that  had  been  burned  by 
the  enemy  a few  days  before.  Now  a large  working  force  was  engaged  in 
putting  the  bridge  in  repair  with  all  possible  celerity,  and  our  General  was 
stimulating  them  by  word  and  example.  Large  timbers  were  being  hewed, 
framed,  and  slowly  raised  to  their  places.  There  was  precision  and  speed 
such  as  I had  never  noticed  before  in  similar  work.  The  general  himself 
seemed  nervously  eager,  encouraging  the  willing  workers,  and  heartily  re- 
buking those  who  seemed  inclined  to  shirk.  Once  I saw  him  precipitated 
with  a splash  into  the  shallow  water,  and  to  those  who,  like  myself,  were 
watching  from  the  shoreward  side,  it  seemed  to  be  done  purposely  by  a 
soldier  whom  Mitchel  had  hurried  with  a rotten  piece  of  wood;  but  no 
sign  of  anger  was  manifested,  and  the  General  urged  on  the  building  as 
before.  To  a soldier  who  is  “off  duty”  for  a day,  nothing  is  more  enjoy- 
able than  to  see  others  work;  and  the  whole  afternoon  realized  to  me  the 
ideal  life  of  the  soldier.  A comrade  strolled  along  and  I read  to  him  my 
letter.  It  was  very  boyish,  intensely  partisan,  its  attempts  at  wit  not 
very  striking,  and  its  estimate  of  Fremont  as  a leader,  and  of  the  Union 
people  in  the  South,  not  such  as  would  have  been  made  later;  but  as  it 
may  serve  to  show  something  of  the  feeling  of  the  soldiers  at  that  stage  of 
the  contest,  a portion  of  it  is  here  inserted;  besides,  it  has  a pathetic  inter- 
est, for  when  it  was  printed  and  read  by  home-friends,  the  trivial  hard- 
ships mentioned  in  it  were  forgotten,  and  the  writer  was  in  a situation 
desperate  as  imagination  can  paint;  while  those  who  read  believed  him  to 
have  perished  on  the  scaffold  ! 

LETTER  TO  THE  STEUBENVILLE  HERALD. 

Murfreesboro,  Tenn,,  March  21,  1862. 

“Friend  Allison: — Again  we  have  made  amove,  and  an  important  one.  The 
divisions  of  Nelson  and  McCook  started  before  us,  and  no  one  knows  where  they  are  gone. 
But  one  thing  is  sure  ; the  northern  frontier  of  the  Gulf  States,  which  has  so  long  enjoyed 
immunity  from  the  horrors  of  war,  will  soon  hear  the  clash  of  arms,  and  the  Union  men 
of  those  States  (if  there  are  any)  will  have  an  opportunity  of  safely  showing  their  devotion 
to  the  good  cause.  These  movements  are  hopeful  and  of  good  omen. 

“ On  Tuesday  last  (i8th),  we  broke  up  our  camp  near  Nashville,  and  with  banners 
waving,  and  the  sun  shining  brightly  on  the  glittering  muskets,  we  started  over  a smooth 
and  level  turnpike.  There  was  only  one  drawback — we  had  so  many  stores  to  take  with 
us  that  our  wagons  were  filled,  and  most  of  the  men  had  to  carry  their  knapsacks. 
Transportation  is  abundant  in  this  country,  but  our  Generals  are  too  generous  and 
chiveilric  {vide  Buckner)  to  use  it.  The  rugged  Fremont  was  not  sufficiently  versed  in 
polite  Afuerican  warfare  to  prefer  the  convenience  of  citizen  rebels  to  the  comfort  of  his 
own  soldiers.  He  would  ride  up  to  a house  and  demand  the  use  of  a driver  and  team  for 


A Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West. 


2t 


so  many  days,  and  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  send  them  back.  The  result  was  that  he 
was  able  to  march  twice  as  far  as  we  do,  and  with  less  fatigue.  But  then,  such  a procedure 
might  offend  the  “noble  South,”  and  when  the  Union  is  restored,  they  might  refuse  to 
hold  office  over  us  ! Whenever  we  see  a fine  house,  the  ranks  are  straightened  up  and 
the  band  commences  playing  some  patriotic  air.  Doubtless  when  the  victorious  march  of 
our  armies  has  carried  a brass  band  past  every  house  in  the  land  of  cotton,  the  inhabitants 
of  that  land,  hearing  the  du<lcet  sound,  will  be  moved  to  return  to  their  rightful  allegiance! 

“But  seriously,  the  disgraceful  subserviency  to  the  South  is  carried  by  tactics  to  an 
unpardonable  extent.  Two  negroes  were  sent  by  their  masters  to  aid  in  the  fortification 
of  Nashville,  but  escaped  to  our  troops.  They  were  confined  in  the  guard-house  of  our 
regiment  to  wait  for  their  masters  to  claim  them  1 This  is  clearly  against  the  act  of  Con- 
gress on  that  subject. 

“ The  first  day  was  beautiful,  the  air  warm,  and  the  grass  just  beginning  to  show  a 
faint  sheet  of  green.  The  next  day,  however,  was  rainy  and  muddy.  It  was  fairly  pour- 
ing down  when  the  tents  w^ere  struck,  and  everything  got  wet.  It  was  a dreary  morning 
march,  with  the  rain  running  down  the  backs  of  our  necks  and  splashing  under  our  feet, 
w’ading  through  creeks  or  making  long  detours  through  the  muddy  fields  to  avoid  standing 
pools  of  water.  But  after  awhile,  the  sun  shone  out  and  dried  our  wet  clothes.  In  the 
evening  we  halted,  still  eight  miles  from  Murfreesboro’,  which  we  reached  the  next  morn- 
ing through  another  rain. 

“ We  are  now  encamped  here,  30  miles  nearly  directly  south  of  Nashville,  though  we 
came  much  further  arbund  to  avoid  bridges  the  enemy  had  burnt.  We  will  stay  here  till 
we  have  the  bridges  at  this  place  repaired,  then  on  southward. 

“ Our  camp  here  is  a beautiful  one,  situated  on  a small  river,  and  is  very  level.  The 
country  around  looks  to  me  to  be  healthful,  and  in  fact  the  whole  line  of  march  south  of 
our  division  leads  throngh  an  eminently  healthy  district.  This  is  fortunate,  for  the  warm 
weather  in  the  malarious  and  swampy  regions  of  the  Gulf  States  would  be  far  more  fatal 
than  southern  steel.”  ***** 


“WM.  PITTENGER.” 


I had  scarcely  finished  reading  when  the  opportunity  I had  longed  for 
came.  Captain  Mitchel  joined  us  and  asked  me  what  I had  been  writing 
to  the  papers — always  a subject  of  interest  among  volunteers.  I began 
to  read  the  letter  again,  and  the  soldier,  not  wishing  to  hear  it  a second 
time,  walked  away.  Every  incident  of  this  momentous  interview  is 
stamped  indelibly  on  my  memory.  After  the  reading  had  been  finished, 
we  talked  for  a time  on  the  prospects  of  the  war,  which  seemed  to  us  very 
favorable,  and  then  I led  the  conversation  to  the  subject  that  was  upper- 
most in  my  thoughts — the  destination  of  the  men  who  had  vanished  from 
our  midst.  From  the  manner  of  my  own  captain  and  all  other  circum- 
stances, I was  convinced  that  they  were  somewhere  secretly  within  the 
enemy’s  lines,  and  in  great  danger.  I induced  Mitchel  to  accompany  me 
to  a more  retired  spot,  and  directly  asked  him  to  tell  me  where  Mills  and 
his  companions  were,  saying  that  I knew  they  had  gone  south  on  a very 
adventurous  expedition.  He  was  startled  at  my  positive  assertion,  and 
imagined  that  I possessed  some  direct  information  on  the  subject;  but 
feeling  that  he  could  trust  me,  and  saying  that  he  was  very  uneasy  about 


22 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  matter  himself,  he  gave  the  full  information  I had  desired.  Nothing 
I had  ever  heard  so  fired  my  imagination.  The  idea  of  a few 'disguised 
men  suddenly  seizing  a train  far  within  the  enemy^s  lines,  cutting  the 
telegraph  wires,  burning  bridges,  and  leaving  the  foe  in  helpless  rage 
behind,  was  the  very  sublimity  and  romance  of  war.  How  I wished  that 
I was  with  them  ! Of  course  I knew  that  any  accident  to  the  train,  any 
premature  discovery,  or  any  failure  of  preconcerted  plans,  would  mean 
death  in  its  most  repulsive  form.  But  a soldier's  business  is  to  face 
death,  and  I had  always  been  accustomed  to  look  on  the  brighter  side  of 
everything,  and  was  little  troubled  with  forebodings  or  gloomy  presenti- 
ments. The  importance  of  burning  bridges  and  destroying  railroads  was 
self-evident:  and  the  thought  of  thus  doing  so  much  more  for  the  country 
than  a common  soldier  could  accomplish  in  any  other  way  was  irresistibly 
attractive.  While  thinking  over  these  things,  I became  silent,  until 
aroused  by  Mitchel’s  asking  me  whether  I thought  they  did  right  in  letting 
the  men  enter  on  such  risks.  I gave  my  opinion  strongly  in  the  affirma- 
tive, providing  only  they  were  perfectly  sure  of  the  fidelity  of  Andrews, 
and  of  his  competency  to  undertake  such  an  enterprise.  Of  the  first 
Mitchel  had  no  doubt,  and  he  assured  me  that  his  confidence  was  shared 
by  all  who  were  in  the  secret;  but  of  the  latter  he  could  not  judge,  as  such 
a thing  had  never  before  been  tried  by  anybody.  Mitchel  expressed 
anxiety  almost  equal  to  that  of  Sarratt,  and  further  informed  me  that  it 
was  the  expectation  of  this  work  being  soon  and  successfully  accomplished 
which  made  the  General  so  anxious  to  have  the  bridge  repaired,  declaring 
that  we  would  then  march  swiftly  for  Chattanooga,  and  get  there  ahead  of 
the  enemy.  This  was  probably  mere  conjecture  on  his  part,  based  upon 
considerations  of  sound  military  policy,  which  ought  to  have  governed 
army  movements,  but  might  not  influence  Halleck  and  Buell.  He  was 
doubtless  wrong  as  far  as  this  first  expedition  was  concerned,  for  it  is  sure 
that  whatever  hopes  of  ulterior  results  might  have  occupied  the  daring 
mind  of  Gen.  Mitchel,  his  position  at  that  time  did  not  permit  such  a dash 
into  the  Confederacy.  It  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  get  a new 
superior,  or  get  more  completely  detached  from  Buell,  before  he  would  be 
able  to  achieve  any  great  result. 

I was  surprised,  also,  to  learn  that  only  the  eight  men  from  our 
own  regiment  were  engaged.  This  seemed  altogether  disproportioned 
to  the  magnitude  of  the  enterprise;  but  of  course  a few  could  travel 
more  safely  through  the  enemy's  country  than  a larger  force.  But  it 
is  probable  that  this  number  was  selected,  not  because  Andrews  consid- 
ered it  enough,  but  because  it  was  all  that  Buell  would  grant.  It  was  not 
enough  to  overcome  a handful  of  train  guards  or  drive  away  the  weakest 
picket  at  a bridge. 

As  Mitchel  and  I again  walked  down  stream,  the  new  bridge,  rapidly 


A Secret  Military  Raid  in  the  West, 


23 


rising  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  old,  took  on  a fresh  interest.  The  work  of 
destruction  the  enemy  had  wrought  so  frequently  on  our  front  was  per- 
haps^ at  that  very  moment^  being  repaid  upon  them  with  interest,  far  in 
their  rear;  and  the  short  rations  and  privations  we  had  so  often  suffered 
from  obstructed  communications,  were  perhaps  being  brought  home  to 
them.  The  more  I thought  of  it,  the  more  attractive  the  enterprise  look- 
ed. I was  tired,  like  every  other  soldier,  of  the  dull  monotony  of  army 
life,  especially  under  such  a slow  and  unenterprising  commander  as  Buell, 
and  was  also  ambitious  and  patriotic.  If  it  was  possible  to  do  more  for 
the  country  by  a little  extra  risk,  I was  more  than  willing  to  assume  it. 
There  was  first  a feeling  of  disappointment  that  I had  been  passed  over 
in  such  a daring  expedition,  and  then  as  I lay  wakefully  in  the  tent  among 
my  sleeping  comrades,  thinking  over  the  strange  revelations  of  the  day, 
a resolution  slowly  took  form  which  was  to  color  all  my  after  life.  If 
any  other  expedition  of  that  kind  was  sent  out,  I resolved  that  it  should 
not  be  my  fault  if  I did  not  accompany  it ! 

In  pursuance  of  this  determination  I went  next  morning  to  regimental 
headquarters,  and  told  Col.  L.A.  Harris,  who  then  commanded  the  2nd 
Ohio,  that  I knew  the  nature  and  business  on  which  some  of  his  best 
soldiers  had  been  sent  into  the  South,  and  desired,  if  at  any  time  there 
should  be  a call  for  men  to  go  on  such  a dangerous  and  honorable  enter- 
prise, that  I might  be  chosen  among  them.  He  was  greatly  surprised 
at  the  extent  of  my  information,  but  did  not  undertake  to  deny  my  asser- 
tions. Maj.  Anson  G.  McCook,  since  General,  Member  of  Congress,  and 
Secretary  of  the  Senate,  in  whose  company  I had  served  during  the  first 
brief  enlistment  of  three  months,  was  also  present,  and  at  once  objected. 
He  said  some  very  kind  things  to  the  Colonel  about  me,  and  indeed,  had 
always  shown  himself  friendly;  but  now,  whether  he  wished  to  hold  me 
back  from  the  risks,  or  really  felt  the  force  of  the  objection  urged,  he  said 
he  thought  my  extremely  defective  eyes  would  unfit  me  for  sudden  emer- 
gencies likely  to  arise  in  enterprises  where  each  soldier  is  thrown  on  his 
own  resources.  I felt  this  objection  keenly,  for  I had  always  been  strug- 
gling to  overcome  the  hindrances  arising  from  this  defect, which  was  indeed 
so  great  that  I could  not  have  been  accepted  as  a soldier  at  all  if  there  had 
been  a strict  examination  like  that  of  the  regular  army.  But  for  any 
one  to  say  that  I could  not  see  well  enough  to  do  a certain  thing  was  sure 
to  make  me  more  anxious  to  do  it;  and  I was  greatly  gratified  to 
hear  Col.  Harris  say  that  he  could  not  agree  with  McCook;  that  wearing 
spectacles  (as  I did  on  all  occasions)  I looked  so  much  like  a school 
teacher  and  so  little  like  a soldier  that  the  Southerners  would  never  sus- 
pect my  true  character.  After  some  further  conversation,  and  after  trying 
in  vain  to  find  out  how  I came  to  know  so  much  about  a profound  military 
secret,  he  gave  me  his  promise  that  if  any  other  men  were  sent  beyond 


24- 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  enemy’s  lines,  I should  be  the  first  one  called  on.  I left  him,  well 
pleased  with  the  result  of  the  interview,  and  thus  became,  as  it  turned  out 
afterward,  the  only  volunteer,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  that  accom- 
panied the  expedition.  But  I had  no  reason  to  expect  that  the  next  enter- 
prise, that  on  which  I afterwards  was  called,  would  be  at  all  like  the  one 
that  had  fired  my  imagination.  The  probabilities  were  that  it  would  be 
some  comparatively  prosaic  scout  only  a few  miles  from  camp. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  eight  adventurers,  a few  at  a time,  came  back 
to  camp.  Not  a man  had  been  lost,  but  the  absence  of  the  expected  engi- 
neer had  prevented  success.' 

When  Andrews  himself  returned,  which  was  a few  days  later,  he  report- 
ed only  to  Mitchel,  and  did  not  seek  the  headquarters  of  Buell,  who  was 
approaching  Shiloh,  nor,  as  far  as  can  be  ascertained,  did  he  make  him  any 
written  or  telegraphic  report.  Whether  he  recognized  in  the  bold,  far- 
sighted subordinate,  a kindred  spirit,  and  desired  to  make  all  arrange- 
ments with  him,  rather  than  to  be  delayed  and  hampered  by  the  cold- 
blooded policy  of  Buell,  or  merely  to  save  time,  cannot  now  be  surely 
known  But  it  is  certain  that  Buell  knew  nothing  about  the  failure  of  the 
first  attempt  or  the  organization  of  a second  expedition  for  more  than  a 
year  afterward,  and  can  have  neither  credit  nor  censure  for  anything  at- 
tending it. 


For  a full  account  of  this  first  expedition  see  Chapter  XXXVII. 


i 


CHAPTER  II. 


GEN.  MITCHEL  AND  J.  J.  ANDREWS  ARRANGE  A SECOND 

RAID. 

Andrews  was  undismayed  by  the  failure  of  his  Southern  friend, 
and  proposed  making  another  attempt  with  a larger  force,  car- 
rying with  him  engineers  and  train  hands  from  the  Union  army. 
It  was  never  difficult  to  find  men  for  every  kind  of  work  among  the  North- 
ern volunteers — a fact  of  which  Gen.  Mitchel  had  already  made  ample 
proof  in  repairing  and  operating  railroads. 

When  Andrews  and  Mitchel  concerted  the  plans  which  were  afterwards 
developed  in  the  Chattanooga  railroad  expedition,  no  witness  was  pres- 
ent. Their  momentous  interview  was  most  probably  held  in  Mitcheks 
tent  at  night,  where  there  would  be  perfect  security  from  interruption  and 
with  all  accessible  maps  of  the  enemy^s  country  spread  out  before  them. 
Let  us,  in  thought,  lift  the  curtain  of  that  tent,  and  entering,  listen  to 
their  discussions,  and  thus  get  an  idea  of  the  whole  military  situation. 
The  outlines  of  such  a consultation  are  not  purely  ideal,  for  the  commu- 
nications of  Andrews,  given  to  his  comrades  in  many  a confidential  talk  in 
the  two  months  that  followed  after  secresy  ceased  to  be  necessary,  to- 
gether with  the  official  records,  and  inferences  from  what  was  attempted 
and  accomplished,  will  guide  us  with  no  small  degree  of  probability  to  the 
very  thoughts  and  plans  that  then  occupied  the  minds  of- the  two  men. 
The  interview  took  place  either  on  Sabbath  evening,  April  6th,  or  before 
daylight  on  Monday  morning,  April  7th,  1862, — the  very  dates  of  the  bat- 
tle of  Shiloh  or  Pittsburg  Landing.  Gen.  Mitchel  was  then  in  high  spirits, 
for  the  obstacles  which  had  so  long  delayed  him  at  Murfreesboro  had  been 
overcome.  He  had  built  a bridge  across  Stone  River  at  that  point,  from 
his  own  resources  exclusively,  in  a period  of  time  unexampled  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  army.  Gen.  Buell,  whose  excessive  caution  and  delay  were  far 
more  dreaded  by  him  than  all  the  forces  of  the  enemy,  was  far  on  the  way 
to  join  Grant  at  Shiloh,  where  he  would  be  ranked  by  Gen.  Grant.  It 
was  reasonable  to  hope  that  the  impetuosity  and  daring  of  the  senior 
officer  would  more  than  compensate  the  chronic  slowness  of  Buell. 
Mitchel  himself  was  moving  rapidly  southward,  and  with  the  best  division 
in  the  Western  army — made  such  by  his  own  tireless  efforts — there  was 


26 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


scarcely  anything  he  dared  not  attempt.  In  a letter  written  home  from 
Murfreesboro  a few  days  before  this,  he  had  already  expressed'the  hope 
that  he  might  at  no  distant  time  direct  his  letters  from  Chattanooga! 
On  every  side  the  outlook  of  the  Union  armies  was  more  hopeful  than 
we,  with  the  memory  of  the  years  of  bloody  struggle  that  followed,  can 
easily  realize.  It  should  never  be  forgotten — though  it  often  is  by  our 
historians — that  there  were  virtually  two  civil  wars;  the  opening  contest 
fought  by  volunteers,  and  the  second  and  final  one  between  soldiers  who 
did  not  fight  purely  of  their  own  accord,  but  were  brought  into  the  field 
by  the  authority  and  force  of  their  respective  Governments.  The  first  of 
these  wars  was  now  closing,  and  had  been  speedily  determined  in  favor  of 
the  North.  At  the  beginning  there  was  almost  equal  enthusiasm;  and  the 
greater  numbers  and  natural  resources  of  the  loyal  volunteers  was  more 
than  balanced  by  the  better  preparation  and  military  organization,  as  well 
as  by  the  superior  determination,  of  the  Confederates;  but  the  very  suc- 
cesses of  the  latter  told  against  them  in  the  long  run.  The  great  victory 
of  Bull  Run  was  no  real  advantage  to  the  armies  of  the  South;  for  while 
it  wonderfully  inflamed  their  enthusiasm,  it  begot  such  confidence  that 
military  efforts  slackened;  and  during  the  novel  (and  therefore  terrible) 
hardships  of  the  first  winter  campaign,  for  which  the  Southern  soldiers 
were  but  ill  prepared,  their  armies  gradually  dwindled  through  sickness; 
volunteering  almost  ceased;  and  when  the  later  successes  of  the  Union 
armies  became  known,  the  common  soldiers  were  discouraged  and  de- 
serted daily.  The  extent  of  this  feeling  is  abundantly  shown  by  Confed- 
erate reports,  even  when  these  try  to  put  the  best  face  on  the  matter.  It 
is  safe  to  say  that  on  the  first  of  April,  1862,  the  Confederates  had  not 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand  effective  troops  in  the  field.  But  the 
leaders  were  fully  determined  to  succeed  or  destroy  the  whole  country. 
They  were,  indeed,  so  fully  committed  to  the  Southern  cause,  that  they 
had  no  hope  of  mercy  in  case  of  Union  victory;  the  wonderful  clem- 
ency of  the  conquerors  in  the  day  of  success  being  something  that  no  one, 
loyal  or  disloyal,  dreamed  of.  But  they  were  not  yet  ready  to  abandon 
the  struggle  as  hopeless.  One  weapon  of  tremendous  power  was  within 
their  reach — a weapon  which  the  peculiar  organization  of  Southern  society 
made  it  easy  to  wield.  The  common  people  were  illiterate  and  accus- 
tomed to  follow  their  leaders,  submitting  often  to  measures  which  in  the 
North  would  have  been  sternly  resisted.  So  far  as  the  institution  of  slav- 
ery was  concerned,  there  had  always  been  a reign  of  terror  at  the  South; 
and  whenever  that  species  of  property  was  supposed  to  be  endangered,  all  • 
sanctions  of  law  were  overridden.  The  natural  leaders  of  the  people,  the 
wealthy  classes  and  the  large  slave-owners,  were  enthusiastic  in  the  cause 
of  secession.  At  the  beginning  of  the  war,  they  had  no  difficulty  in  pur- 
suading  the  poor  to  volunteer  and  fill  the  ranks,  where  they  made  effective 


Mitchel  and  Andrezvs  Arrange  a Second  Raid,  27 

soldiers  from  the  outset,  rendering  that  obedience  to  their  military  supe^ 
riors  from  life-long  habit  which  Northern  soldiers  gained  by  hard  and  re- 
pulsive discipline.  They  themselves,  being  wealthier  and  more  intelligent^ 
made  excellent  officers,  having  the  instinct  of  command  and  all  the 
personal  pride  which  is  nurtured  in  an  aristocratic  state  of  society,  and  is 
a wonderful  stimulus  to  bravery.  The  Southern  troops  were  as  brave 
and  effective  as  any  the  world  has  known.  But  now  that  the  spirit  of  vol- 
unteering had  declined  and  the  ranks  were  thinning,  it  remained  to  be 
seen  whether  the  masses  of  the  Southern  people  would  submit  to  a whole- 
sale system  of  conscription — something  which  had  no  precedent  in  Amer- 
ican history.  If  not,  they  were  lost.  It  was  the  last  hope,  and  it  was 
faithfully  tried  on  a scale  unparalleled  in  civilized  history.  A law  was 
passed  putting  every  effective  man  between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and 
thirty-five — a limit  afterwards  greatly  extended — into  the  army!  In  the 
North  not  much  notice  was  taken  of  this  gigantic  measure;  it  was  spoken 
of  as  the  last  refuge  of  desperation,  a tacit  confession  of  defeat;  to  escape 
it,  many  citizens,  especially  in  the  mountain  districts  of  Virginia,  North" 
Carolina,  Georgia,  Tennessee,  and  Alabama  fled  from  their  homes,  and  a 
few  across  the  lines  to  the  Union  armies;  but  it  was  generally  acquiesced 
in  as  necessary,  although  the  scarcity  of  arms  and  proper  officers  made 
the  organizing  and  calling  forth  of  the  million  of  men  embraced  in  this 
terrible  and  far-reaching  law  a slow  and  tedious  process.  But  the  work 
did  go  on;  volunteering  became  rapid,  for  it  secured  some  privileges,  and 
was  the  only  way  of  escaping  the  conscription;  the  drain  upon  the  Southern 
armies  from  desertions  and  discharges  almost  ceased.  Regiments  whose 
terms  of  service  expired,  were  not  sent  home,  but  held  under  the  new  law; 
and  an  able-bodied  man  in  the  South  found  that  he  must  do  one  of  three 
things:  submit,  and  enter  the  Southern  army;  hide  from  relentless  pursuit 
in  the  mountains,  with  the  prospect  of  rebel  prisons  before  him  if  cap- 
tured; or  flee  from  home  altogether  to  the  Union  armies.  A feeling  of 
desperate  resolve  gradually  overspread  the  whole  South — a feeling  that 
everything  was  now  staked  on  victory,  and  that  for  original  Union  men, 
as  well  as  for  secessionists,  nothing  remained  but  to  fight  on  to  the  bitter 
end.  From  this  conviction  arose  the  dreadful  conflict  that  follovved.  But 
in  April  it  was  only  beginning,  and  did  not  culminate  for  some  months 
after. 

The  North  was  affected  by  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  and  other  early  re- 
verses in  a precisely  opposite  manner.  There  was  enough  of  sorrow  and 
disappointment,  but  no  discouragement.  On  the  contrary  there  was  a 
feeling  of  grim  determination.  My  own  experience  illustrates  that  of 
thousands.  The  first  three -months’  term  of  enlistment  expired  a few  days 
before  the  battle  of  Bull  Run;  and  though  I willingly  remained  with  my 
comrades  for  the  battle,  yet  I refused  to  re-enlist,  as  everything  connected 


28 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


with  a military  life  was  distasteful;  and  I felt  that  there  was  now  no  great 
need  of  further  services.  But  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  I resolved  to 
re-enter  the  ranks  for  the  war.  All  through  the  fall  there  was  steady  en- 
listment, arid  the  work  of  recruiting  did  not  flag  for  the  whole  winter, though 
no  bounties  were  then  given  or  promised  except  that  of  the  old  United 
States  law,  which  few  of  the  soldiers  knew  or  cared  about.  By  spring,  at 
least  five  hundred  thousand  Union  soldiers,  better  armed,  equipped,  and 
disciplined  than  the  foe — outnumbering  him  more  than  two  to  one — were 
ranged  along  the  border,  and  there  was  no  point  in  the  South  that  did  not 
lie  at  their  mercy,  provided  only  that  the  advance  was  made  at  once^  before 
the  Confederates  could  arm  and  array  their  million  of  conscripts.  The 
victory  of  the  Northern  over  the  Southern  volunteers  was  already  assured, 
if  no  new  elements  entered  into  the  struggle;  and  what  we  may  term  the 
first  war  closed  in  triumph  for  the  Union  arm-s.  But  when  the  remnant  of 
the  rebel  volunteers  was  reinforced  by  the  mass  of  those  who  were  being 
impressed  into  the  service,  and  who  in  three  months  were  as  good  sol- 
diers as  any  other,  the  war  entered  upon  a new  phase;  and  the  victory  was 
not  won  until  the  North,  more  than  a year  afterward,  entered  with  slow 
and  hesitating  steps  the  same  path  of  compulsory  military  service. 

But  why  should  the  conflict  have  been  permitted  to  pass  into  this  sec- 
ond stage  ? Why  not  have  pressed  the  great  advantages  then  held  so  as 
to  prevent  the  general  enforcement  of  the  conscription  ? On  three  7nen  the 
responsibilities  of  ' thus  prolonging  the  contest  will  mainly  rest.  Perhaps 
from  another  point  of  view,  we  might  regard  them  as  agents  of  Providence 
in  continuing  the  conflict  until  all  the  resources  of  the  South  were  called 
out  and  utterly  exhausted,  and  that  section  thus  made  willing  to  submit 
to  the  final  overthrow  of  slavery  and  re-organization  on  the  basis  of  lib- 
erty. 

These  three  men  were  McClellan,  Halleck,  and  Buell.  They  had 
many  traits  in  common.  Each  was  opposed  to  interference  with  slavery, 
and  wished  to  conduct  the  war  in  the  kindest  and  most  courteous  manner. 
Each  possessed  decided  talent  for  organizing  and  manoeuvering  armies, 
talking  much  about  lines  of  retreat,  and  bases  of  supply.  , Each  over- 
estimated the  armies  opposed  to  him.  There  is  no  reason  to  suspect  their 
loyalty  and  good  faith,  and  in  subordinate  positions  they  might  have  ren- 
dered valuable  service  to  their  country.  Their  plans  were  great  and  plaus- 
ible, but  they  moved  slowly,  requiring  vast  resources  and  perfectly  drilled 
troops  to  execute  them.  By  proper  precautions  and  strategy,  with  suffi- 
cient force,  they  imagined  that  the  element  of  risk  and  the  necessity  of 
desperate  fighting  might  be  eliminated.  They  each  looked  upon  the  war 
from  the  professional  soldier’s  point  of  view,  rather  than  that  of  the  armed 
patriotic  citizen,  who  wishes  to  finish  a dreadful  but  necessary  business, 
and  return  to  his  home  But  in  their  strong  qualities  they  were  less  alike. 


Mitchel  and  Andrews  Arrange  a Second  Raid. 


29 


McClellan  excelled  in  supplying  an  army,  perfecting  its  organization,  in 
elaborate  reviews,  and  in  securing  the  enthusiastic  devotion  of  his  soldiers. 
Buell  understood  well  the  lines  of  advance  for  his  own  troops  and  the 
enemy,  and  could  so  well  guard  every  possible  approach  that  he  was  never 
surprised.  Halleck  could  clearly  see  the  vital  points  of  a military  situa- 
tion, could  embrace  in  one  view  the  most  complicated  details,  was  of  tire- 
less industry,  compelled  his  subordinates  to  clerical  exactness,  and,  when 
commander-in-chief,  could  tell  at  a moment’s  notice  where  every  regiment 
in  the  army  was  stationed.  What  magnificent  service  these  men  could 
have  rendered  to  their  country  if  they  had  only  been  real  warriors! 

Each  of  the  two  Western  generals  possessed  a subordinate  with  all  the 
qualities  he  himself  lacked.  Halleck  sent  Grant  forward,  who  achieved 
brilliant  successes,  until  the  arrival  of  his  chief  on  the  field  at  Corinth, 
after  which  he  was  held  in  check  for  many  months;  Mitchel  was  fettered 
by  Buell,  until  fortunately  he  was  so  far  separated  from  his  chief  as  to  get 
a little  liberty  of  action  at  the  period  our  story  opens.  But  it  is  difficult 
to  repress  a feeling  of  indignation  even  now  at  the  manner  in  which  these 
commanders,  who  looked  upon  war  as  a purely  professional  game  to  be 
played  regularly  and  leisurely  to  the  end,  caused  the  auspicious  hour,  in 
which  success  was  almost  a matter  of  certainty,  to  be  lost.  McClellan 
held  all  the  Eastern  army  inert  for  more  than  a month  before  Yorktown, 
during  which  time  the  rebels  were  enforcing  the  conscription  with  iron 
hand  in  every  hamlet  in  the  South,  and  hurrying  the  troops  forward  to 
ultimately  beat  him;  Buell  left  Grant  unsupported  to  fight  the  concen- 
trated forces  of  the  enemy  at  Fort  Donelson,  and  to  come  near  total  de- 
feat in  the  first  day’s  battle  at  Shiloh;  while  Halleck  gathered  every  avail- 
able man  in  the  West  and  held  them  before  Corinth  in  overwhelming 
array  with  orders  to  his  corps  commanders  to  retreat  at  any  point  rather 
th^n  to  bring  on  a battle!  By  the  end  of  this  period  of  inaction,  the 
enemy  was  able  to  meet  our  armies  on  something  like  equal  terms. 

But  all  this  while  we  have  left  Andrews  and  Mitchel  alone  in  the  tent 
of  the  latter.  That  they  both  knew  to  a greater  or  less  degree  of  the 
considerations  we  have  sketched,so  far  as  they  relate  to  events  then  passed, 
or  the  existing  situation,  is  more  than  probable.  Andrews  had  penetrated 
often  into  the  South,  and  while  he  had  a high  personal  regard  for  Buell  and 
always  spoke  of  him  kindly,  the  daring  nature  of  his  own  plans  and  the 
consequences  he  expected  to  flow  from  them,  shows  that  he  had  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  policy  of  delay. 

Mitchel  was  as  fully  informed  of  all  war  topics  as  any  person  outside 
the  war  department  could  be.  He  was  indeed  a man  of  whom  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  speak  too  highly,  and  if  he  had  possessed  the  rank  and  opportu- 
nities of  one  of  the  great  generals  we  have  mentioned,  the  story  of  the  war 
would  certainly  have  been  different.  His  fame  as  a man  of  original  gen- 


30 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


ius — as  astronomer,  mechanician,  inventor,  and  civil  engineer — was  well 
established  before  the  war  began.  He  was  the  better  prepared  for  his 
duties  because  he  had  graduated  at  West  Point,  and  served  a short  time 
as  professor  there,  before  making  so  bright  a mark  in  civil  life.  When 
the  war  broke  out  he  had  been  appointed  first  to  superintend  the  fortifi- 
cation of  Cincinnati,  which  was  soon  finished;  and  he  then  obtained  per- 
mission to  raise  troops  for  the  deliverance  of  East  Tennessee,  always  a 
favorite  object  with  him;  but  military  etiquette  interfered  with  his  march 


Gen.  O.  M.  Mitchel.  From  a photograph  furnished  by  his  son,  F.  A.  Mitchel,  Esq. 

across  Kentucky,  which  was  in  another  General’s  department,  and  the 
scheme  was  abandoned.  He  was  then  assigned  to  the  command  of  a divi- 
sion, and  had  brought  it  to  the  highest  state  of  efficiency.  He  knew  so  well 
the  state  of  the  South  that  he  felt  willing  to  trust  himself  anywhere  in  the 
enemy’s  country  with  that  division  alone.  He  lingered  with  Buell  a long 
time  in  front  of  Louisville,  and  writes  home  with  the  delight  of  a boy  let 
out  of  school  when  once  the  order  to  advance  is  given;  he  almost  drags 
Buell  on  to  Nashville,  offering  to  become  responsible  “ with  his  head  for 
the  issue  of  the  events  if  the  permission  to  go  forward  is  only  given;  over- 
comes obstacles  such  as  rivers,  obstructed  roads,  and  burnt  bridges  with- 


Mitchel  and  Andrews  Arrange  a Second  Raid.  31 

an  ease  bom  of  thorough  knowledge  and  boundless  energy.  At  length  he 
is  detached,  with  his  own  division  only,  from  the  army  of  Buell,  and  given 
a very  humble  task — that  of  taking  such  a position  as  would  best  protect 
Nashville  from  an  advance  by  the  enemy  (who  had  just  as  much  thought 
at  that  time  of  going  to  the  moon  as  returning  to  Nashville!)  But  this 
gave  him  latitude  enough,  for  as  long  as  he  kept  the  enemy  before  him 
Nashville  was  fully  protected,  and  he  at  once  began  that  advance  which 
is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  campaigns  of  the  war.  He  had  now  reached 
Shelbyville,  and  was  on  the  eve  of  a movement  still  further  into  the  South. 

It  should  be  remembered  by  those  who  would  fully  understand  the 
events  that  followed,  that  Mitchel  was  in  no  sense  a heedless  adventurer. 
On  the  contrary  he  was  watchful  and  alert  to  the  highest  degree . Every 
regiment  of  his  division  had  been  taught  vigilance  by  the  most  energetic 
effort.  I remember  an  experience  of  this  kind  that  left  an  indelible 
impression  on  the  2nd  Ohio.  It  occurred  soon  after  Mitchel  had  as-, 
sumed  command,  but  was  by  no  means  solitary.  In  camp  at  Bacon 
Creek,  Ky.,  on  a very  dark  and  stormy  winter  night,  the  guard  was  placed 
as  usual,  but  along  about  two  or  three  o’clock  had  grown  careless — more 
anxious  to  find  shelter  than  to  note  everything  that  was  stirring.  Sud^ 
denly  those  of  us  who  were  “ off  duty  received  a startling  surprise.  The 
men  on  watch  had  permitted  somebody  to  come  up  to  our  post  unchab 
lenged,  and  we  knew  nothing  of  it  until  this  person  was  in  our  midst,  seiz- 
ing the  soldiers  in  no  gentle  manner  by  arm  and  collar,  and  shaking  them, 
or  tumbling  them  out  of  the  guard  tent,  as  he  exclaimed,  “Why  don’t 
you  turn  out  the  guard  V Some  of  the  soldiers  were  for  resisting,  but  all 
were  submissive  enough  when  the  word  passed  around,  “ It’s  old  Mitchel 
himself!’’  We  were  very  soon  in  our  places  and  then  we  listened  to  a 
lecture,  as  we  stood  in  the  rain,  7iot  on  the  subject  of  astronomy!  When 
the  General  was  gone  the  soldiers  grumbled  and  wished  they  had  an  officer 
“ who  had  not  studied  the  stars  so  long  that  he  could  not  sleep  at  night 
himself  and  would  not  let  any  body  else  sleep  but  we  resolved  not  to  be 
caught  in  the  same  way  again;  and  we  never  were  ! We  now  knew  in  our 
division  that  the  only  way  to  get  along  in  peace  with  our  commander  was 
to  faithfully  perform  every  part  of  military  duty.  We  exercised  the  sol- 
dier’s prerogative  in  grumbling,  but  we  loved  and  trusted  him,  for  all  that, 
and  would  have  followed  him  to  Mobile  or  Savannah  without  hesitation, 
assured  that  he  would  have  carried  safely  through  whatever  he  undertook. 

While  Andrews  and  Mitchel  considered  the  advisability  of  another  at- 
tempt upon  the  enemy’s  communications,  there  is  one  point  they  cannot 
have  failed  to  understand.  Any  new  enterprise  must  be  on  the  authority 
of  Mitchel.  The  original  instruction  given  nearly  a month  before,  to 
furnish  eight  men  (or  six),  could  have  had  no  binding  force  now  when  cir- 
cumstances were  totally  different.  The  purpose  Buell  had  in  view  was 


32 


Darifig  and  Suffering. 


no  longer  of  value.  East  Tennessee,  as  Andrews  well  knew  and  would 
not  fail  to  report  to  Mitchel,  was  almost  completely  denuded  of  troops. 
Indeed,  Mitchel  never  was  haunted  by  the  spectre  of  a vast  rebel  army 
such  as  continually  rose  before  Buell.  No  men  or  arms  could  be  sent 
from  that  department  either  to  reinforce  Corinth  or  to  attack  Nashville. 
The  body  of  troops  gathering  at  Big  Shanty,  a few  miles  north  of  Atlanta, 
could  just  as  well  be  forwarded  by  way  of  Mobile.  And  most  conclusive 
of  all,  Mitchel  intended  to  move  immediately  on  the  line  of  road  from 
Decatur  to  Bridgeport,  and  expected — an  expectation  fully  realized — to 
have  his  whole  division  there  within  a week.  Then  he  would  be  able  to 
burn  the  bridges  west  of  Chattanooga  himself,  if  he  did  not  rather  wish  to 
preserve  them  for  his  own  use.  Why  did  not  Mitchel  say  in  view  of  the 
situation: 

“ Mr.  Andrews,  I give  you  credit  for  penetrating  to  the  heart  of  the 
enemy’s  country,  even  if  you  did  not  accomplish  what  you  intended,  which, 
indeed,  would  be  of  no  value  now;  and  I am  thankful  for  the  information 
you  have  gained  as  to  the  enemy’s  condition  so  far  within  his  lines,  and 
especially  for  bringing  back  every  one  of  my  soldiers  in  safety;  now  you 
may  return  to  Buell  and  report  that  there  is  no  further  work  of  the  kind 
he  sent  you  here  to  do;  or,  if  you  prefer,  I will  gladly  have  your  services 
as  an  ordinary  spy. 

Why  did  Mitchel  not  say  this,  and  terminate  the  conference  ? Why  not 
indeed,  save  that  he  saw  a glittering  prize  before  him  which  Andrews 
could  help  him  to  win  — nothing  less  than  the  possession  of  Chattanooga 
and  Knoxville,  with  all  of  East  Tennessee,  thus  stabbing  the  rebellion 
to  the  heart,  while  its  right  and  left  hands — the  armies  of  Beauregard  and 
Joe  Johnston — were  held  fast  at  Corinth  and  Richmond.^ 

The  absolutely  conclusive  proof  that  Mitchel  wanted  Andrews  to  burn 
the  bridges  south  of  Chattanooga  is  found  not  merely  in  the  statement  of 
the  survivors  of  the  expedition,  but  in  Mitchel’s  own  letters  and  des- 
patches. There  were  but  two  persons  present  at  the  conference  at  which 
their  plans  were  arrange^,  and  neither  of  these  seems  in  advance  of  the 
performance  to  have  hinted  his  designs  to  any  persons  save  so  far  as  was 
necessary  to  allow  the  soldiers  who  were  to  accompany  Andrews  to  be  in- 
telligently chosen.  But  on  the  very  day  when  Andrews  captured  the  train, 
Mitchel  was  careful  to  mislead  the  enemy  so  that  he  might  not  destroy 
the  great  bridge  over  the  Tennessee,  and  then  declares  in  letters  to  Buell 
(and  S.  P.' Chase, ^ Secretary  of  the  Treasury),  that  he  did  so  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  be  permitted  to  march  on  Chattanooga  and  Knoxville. 

Whether  in  the  case  of  Andrews  completely  accomplishing  his  share  of 

^ See  Chap.  XLII.  for  further  discussion  with  Gen.  Buell  and  Gen.  Fry  of 
Mitchel’ s purpose. 

2\yar  Records.  Series  I.  Vol.  X.  Part  2.  Page  115. 


Mitchel  and  Andrews  Arrange  a Second  Raid.  33 

the  work,  Mitchel  could  have  carried  out  this  hope,  may  be  judged  from 
what  follows.  It  will  be  enough  to  assert  here  that  he  thought  he  could, 
and  that  the  enemy  fully  shared  his  belief. 

Let  us  examine  the  position  of  Chattanooga  as  it  lay  before  these  two 
men,  on  whose  conference  hung  great  issues  and  so  many  lives;  for  Mit- 
chel then  revealed  to  Andrews  more  of  his  plans  than  to  any  other  person, 
even  his  own  staff  officers. 

Chattanooga  was  a mere  village  in  1862,  and  was  little  more  than  one 
hundred  miles  distant  in  a direct  line,  but  separated  from  them  by  almost 
roadless  mountains  and  formidable  streams.  By  aid  of  the  sketch  map 
facing  Chapter  I.  we  may  form  an  idea  of  the  central  location  of  this 
mountain  stronghold  and  grand  strategic  position,  and  thus  be  enabled  to 
judge  whether  its  capture  would  have  been  possible,  and  whether  it  would 
have  been  of  any  advantage  to  the  Union  arms.  If  both  these  questions 
are  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  the  further  admission  made  that  the 
burning  of  bridges  on  the  Georgia  State  railroad  would  have  materially 
contributed  to  that  end,  it  will  dispose  of  the  question  whether  Andrews 
and  his  men  imperiled  their  lives  in  a mere  aimless  raid,  or  whether  as 
the  Confederate  newspapers  and  the  United  States  official  authorities 
declare,  it  was  “ planned  by  genius”  and  ‘^absolutely  sublime.” 

Andrews  could  at  this  time  give  Mitchel  positive  information  that  Chat- 
tanooga was  denuded  of  troops,  and  that  the  surrounding  country  for  a 
long  distance,  more  than  a hundred  miles  in  every  direction,  was  in  the 
same  condition.  No  recruits  could  be  raised  there  for  the  Confederate 
army  at  that  time.  The  commander,  E.  Kirby  Smith,  under  date  of 
March  13th,  reports'  ” East  Tennessee  is  an  enemy’s  country;  its  people 
beyond  the  influence  of  our  troops  and  in  open  rebellion.^’  The  occupa- 
tion of  Chattanooga  in  force  by  the  Federals  would  have  gone  like  an 
electric  shock  through  all  this  region,  and  a mountain  territory  inhabit- 
ed by  more  than  a million  people,  comprising  East  Tennessee,  Western 
North  Carolina,  and  Northern  Alabama  and  Georgia,  as  loyal  as  Pennsyl- 
vania or  Ohio,  would  have  soon  given  fifty  thousand  men  to  the  Union 
cause.  Their  fear  and  hatred  of  the  rebellion  would  have  induced  them 
to  put  forth  every  possible  effort  for  self-preservation.  But  could  not 
reinforcements  be  sent  to  a great  railroad  centre  like  Chattanooga  with 
speed  enough  to  fortify  and  hold  it  against  every  effort  of  Mitchel’ s slen- 
der force  ? Just  in  answering  this  question  was  the  vast  value  that  Mitchel 
saw  in  the  new  Andrews  raid;  no  longer  needed  to  carry  out  Buelks  design 
of  preventing  the  enemy’s  advance  toward  Nashville,  it  would  be  of  simply 
inestimable  value  if  it  could,  for  three  or  four  days  even,  isolate  Chatta- 
nooga from  its  Southern  and  Eastern  connections.  Mitchel  had  already  per- 


^ War  Records.  Series  I.  Vol.  X.  Part  2.  Page  320. 

3 


34 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


mission  to  go,  if  he  could  see  his  way  perfectly  clear,  to  Huntsville;  this  he 
extended  on  his  own  responsibility  seventy  miles  further  to  Stevenson; 
and  if  the  way  was  open  by  rail,  he  could  as  well  push  on  to  Chattanooga. 
No  reinforcements  could  be  sent  against  him  from  the  direction  of  Knox- 
ville and  East  Tennessee^  for  in  addition  to  the  fact  that  any  withdravv^al 
of  the  forces  there  would  have  been  followed  by  an  uprising  of  the  op- 
pressed mountaineers,  and  a destruction  of  the  railroad  in  the  mountain 
defiles,  the  Union  Gen.  Morgan  was  before  Cumberland  Gap,  ready  with 
a superior  force  to  press  toward  Knoxville  if  there  was  the  slightest  indi- 
cation of  the  weakening  of  his  opponents.  Besides,  a large  bridge  of  the 
East  Tennessee  railroad  spanned  Chickamauga  creek  near  the  junction  with 
the  Georgia  State  road^  ten  miles  from  Chattanooga,  and  this  would  also 
be  destroyed  by  Andrews.  One  railroad  only  was  formidable,  that  lead- 
ing to  Atlanta.  Undrilled  troops,  badly  armed  but  enthusiastic,  could  be 
brought  from  there  in  a single  day,  and  in  two  or  three  days  considerable 
bodies  of  well-drilled  and  completely  equipped  men  from  Savannah  or 
Charleston.  Had  the  Andrews^  party  destroyed  the  bridges  on  this  road 
and  the  East  Tennessee  bridge  over  the  Chickamauga  on  the  day  the  train 
was  seized,  I have  no  doubt  that  Chattanooga  would  have  been  under  the 
old  flag  before  the  next  day’s  sun  went  down.  Then  the  fall  of  Knoxville 
and  the  opening  of  communications  with  Gen.  Morgan  would  have  fol- 
lowed as  a necessary  sequence.  Communication  was  the  third  day  actu- 
ally opened  with  Halleck  and  Buell  on  the  West;  so  if  this  one  co7itin’- 
geficy  had  occurred,  the  whole  line  of  railroad  from  Corinth  to  Knoxville, 
an  extent  of  nearly  three  hundred  miles,  would  have  been  occupied  by 
four  armies  in  perfect  connection — those  of  Grant,  Buell,  Mitchel,  and 
Morgan — a grand  total,  including  their  reserves  at  Nashville  and  on  the 
march  of  150,000  choice  troops,  opposed  to  less  than  70,000  scattered, 
isolated,  and  discouraged  rebels!  what  effect  such  an  achievement  would 
have  had  on  public  sentiment  at  the  North,  on  the  promotion  of  General 
Mitchel,  and  the  future  of  the  war,  are  topics  not  necessary  here  to  dwell 
upon.  But  such  considerations  go  far  to  justify  Judge- Advocate-General 
Holt’s  opinion,  “ that  the  whole  aspect  of  the  war  in  the  South-west  would 
have  been  at  once  changed. The  editor  of  the  Atlanta  Southern  Con- 
federacy,” well  knowing  the  critical  position  of  Confederate  affairs,  and 
the  defenseless  condition  of  Chattanooga  at  this  time,  wrote  the  following 
in  his  paper  of  April  15th,  1862: 

“ The  most  daring  scheme  that  this  revolution  has  developed  has  been  thwarted  ; 
and  the  tremendous  results  which,  if  successful,  can  scarcely  be  imagined,  much  less  de- 
scribed, have  been  averted.  Had  they  succeeded  in  burning  the  bridges,  the  enemy  at 
Huntsville  would  have  occupied  Chattanooga  before  Sunday  night.  Yesterday  (Monday) 
they  would  have  been  in  Knoxville,  and  thus  have  had  possession  of  all  East  Tennessee. 
Our  forces  at  Knoxville,  Greenville  and  Cumberland  Gap  would,  ere  this,  have  been  in 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.” 


Mitchel  and  Andrews  Arrange  a Second  Raid,  35 

All  this  may  sound  wildly  extravagant,  but  the  one  solid  military  ad- 
vantage, not  far  off  or  contingent,  that  determined  Mitchel  to  risk  the 
lives  of  twenty-four  picked  men  in  a desperate  enterprise,  was  that  the 
burning  of  those  bridges  would  render  the  capture  of  Chattanooga  per- 
fectly practicable  with  Mitchel’s  force,  and  would  have  given  abundant 
time  for  his  reinforcement,  even  if  such, reinforcement  had  to  be  given  by 
orders  directly  from  Washington. 

How  long  Andrews  and  Mitchel  were  in  reaching  such  a conclusion — 
how  many  maps  they  turned  over  together,  or  if  they  had  more  than  one 
interview  during  the  less  than  twenty-four  hours  that  intervened  between 
Andrews’s  return  to  camp  and  his  setting  forth  at  the  head  of  a new  and 
enlarged  expedition  upon  his  terrible  work — is  not  certain.  The  interview 
we  have  supposed  must  have  been  held  at  night,  for  Andrews  reached 
camp  after  dark  on  the  evening  of  the  6th,  or  before  the  morning  light  of 
the  7th,  and  the  same  morning  all  was  arranged',  and  the  work  of  selecting 
the  adventurers  begun.  In  this  short  time  Andrews  ceased  to  be  the 
agent  of  Buell,  and  came  under  the  orders  of  Mitchel,  the  force  at  his 
disposal  was  trebled,  his  plan  of  operations  was  substantially  changed,  and 
he  was  ready  to  select  his  men  and  set  forth.  Such  promptitude  is  almost 
bewildering,  especially  to  one  accustomed  to  the  proceedings  of  such 
soldiers  (with  one  or  two  exceptions)  as  had  hitherto  controlled  the 
American  armies;  but  the  whole  of  the  Huntsville  campaign  of  Gen. 
Mitchel  is  of  the  same  character. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SELECTION  OF  ENGINEERS  AND  SOLDIERS. 

ON  Monday  night,  April  7th,  1862,  orders  were  sent  in  regular  mil 
tary  channels  to  the  Colonels  of  the  three  Ohio  regiments  of  Sillh 
brigade  to  have  a man  ffom  each  company  selected  for  special 
and  hazardous  service.  Each  colonel  called  a meeting  of  captains^  and 
getting  a general  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  work  required,  each  captain 

selected  a man  judged  to  be  best 
adapted  for  it,  and,  returning  to 
his  own  company,  either  gave  him 
personal  notice  or  sent  him  up  to 
his  colonel’s  quarters  for  instruc- 
tions. None  of  the  members  of 
the  first  expedition,  who  were  all 
of  the  2nd  Ohio,  would  volun- 
teer again.  The  romance  con- 
nected with  such  an  undertaking 
had  vanished  when  they  found 
themselves  face  to  face  with  the 
terrible  risks  involved. 

The  meeting  of  officers  ar- 
ranged as  to  the  manner  of  fur- 
nishing engineers  and  firemen, 
and,  as  these  would  be  available 
in  other  work,  a liberal  allowance 
was  made.  Three  of  those  detailed 

W.LSOK  W.  Brown,  Engineer.  From  a war-time  pho-  SUCCCeded  in  getting  through  the 

tograph.  lines.  Two  of  the  men.  Brown 

and  Knight,  were  from  the  21st  Ohio.  That  whole  regiment  was  called 
into  line,  and  the  statement  publicly  made  that  men  who  could  run  engines 
were  wanted  for  detailed  service;  and  any  who  had  experience  in  that 
line  were  asked  to  step  two  paces  to  the  front.  Brown  thus  describes 
what  followed. 

“ The  Colonel  ordered  me  to  report  to  his  headquarters  for  instructions  ; when  I did, 
he  told  me  that  there  was  a secret  raid  being  organized  to  penetrate  into  the  South  to 
burn  bridges,  and  that,  to  complete  the  w'ork,  a locomotive  would  have  to  be  captured  ; he 


Selection  of  Engiiiecrs  and  Soldiers. 


37 


added  that  I had  been  selected  to  run  this  locomotive,  though,  to  guard  against  all  con 
tingencies,  two  other  engineers  would  be  along  to  take  my  place  if  anything  happened  to 
me.  After  giving  me  some  advice  he  ordered  me  to  report  to  Gen.  Mitchel  in  person.  I 
did  so,  and  handed  the  General  a note  from  the  Colonel,  which  he  read,  and  remained 
silent  for  a moment.  Then  he  said,  ‘ This  is  a dangerous  mission  you  are  going  on,  and 
the  utmost  caution  will  be  necessary  on  the  part  of  all  of  you.’  He  next  questioned  me 
as  to  my  competency  to  run  an  engine.  (This  work  Mitchel  well  understood.)  I an- 
swered all  his  questions,  and  he  then  asked  me  if  I had  any  papers  to  show.  I drew  from 
my  pocket  a paper  signed  by  the  master  mechanic  of  the  Mobile  and  Ohio  milroad,  on 
which  I had  run  in  i860,  a year  before  the  War,  and  other  papers  from  other  roads  on 
which  I had  been  employed.  He  carefully  read  them  all  and  said  that  they  were  sufficient 
on  that  point,  adding,  ‘ On  you  rests  a great  responsibility.  You  are  the  first  engineer 
selected  to  take  charge  of  the  engine,  but  there  will  be  a reserve  of  two  others  from  the 
other  regiments.’  I was  about  to  leave  him  when  a sudden  impulse  led  me  to  say,  ‘ Gen- 
eral, I would  very  much  like  to  ask  you  two  questions  about  this  expedition,  if  you  will 
permit  me.’  He  very  frankly  said,  ‘ You  are  at  perfect  liberty  to  ask  any  question  bear- 
ing on  this  matter.’  Then  I said,  ‘ What  is  the  object  of  this  raid  ? ’ He  answered, 

‘ To  destroy  the  bridges  over  one  of  the  main  lines  of  the  enemy’s  communications.  It 
will  go  far  to  separate  their  armies,  and  put  them  at  our  mercy.’  I said,  ‘ But  what  do 
you  think  of  our  chances  of  success?’  ‘That  depends  upon  circumstances,’  he  replied; 
‘ if  the  enterprise  can  be  carried  out  as  planned  by  Mr.  Andrews,  I think  the  chances  are 
very  good  indeed  ; but  if  any  delay  happens,  the  difficulty  wilNbe  increased/  I asked, 
‘Why  so.  General?’  ‘He  answered,  ‘Because  as  the  armies  draw  nearer,  the  roads 
will  be  more  occupied  with  troops  and  stores  moving  back  and  forth,  and  these  will  be  in 
your  way.’  Then  again  pausing  for  a minute,  he  continued,  ‘Your  mission  is  very  haz- 
ardous. It  is  not  pleasant  forme  to  send  such  a number  of  picked  men  into  the  enemy’s 
power  ; but  in  war  great  risks  must  be  run,  and  we  are  engaged  in  a war  of  right  and  wrong; 
armed  treason  must  be  met  and  conquered  ; and  if  you  fall,  you  die  in  a glorious  cause  ; I 
have  great  confidence  in  Mr.  Andrews,  your  leader  ; I trust  that  the  great  ruler  of  the 
destinies  of  man  will  protect  you  all  ! ’ He  grasped  my  hand  and  terminated  the  inter- 
view. I never  saw  him  again  ! ” 

The  other  engineer  describes  the  manner  of  his  detail  very  picturesque- 
ly. There  was  always  a little  emulation  between  Brown  and  Knight  as  to 
.which  was  chief  and  which  assistant  engineer.  One  seems  to  have  had 
his  appointment  directly  from  Mitchel  and  the  other  from  Andrews;  but 
they  were  inseparable  companions  and  always  worked  in  harmony.  Knight 
had  been  a long  time  in  subordinate  positions  on  the  Pittsburg  and  Fort 
Wayne  road  and  served  three  years  as  engineer  on  the  old  Pan  Handle 
route.  He  says: 

“Captain  Brewster  reported  my  name  to  the  meeting  at  the  Twenty-first  head- 
quarters as  the  man  from  his  company.  We  were  next  called  out  as  a regiment  on  parade 
shortly  after  dinner,  and  while  on  the  ground,  the  Colonel  made  a call,  that  if  there  were  any 
engineers  in  the  regiment  capable  of  running  a locomotive,  they  should  step  two  paces  in 
advance.  I stepped  out  thinking  that  I was  going  to  get  some  soft  snap,  such  as  running 
a saw  or  grist  mill  ; but  it  turned  out  not  to  be  so  very  soft.  He  told  me  to  report  to 
headquarters  immediately  after  being  dismissed.  The  captain  offered  to  go  along,  and 
give  me  an  introduction  ; on  the  way  he  told  me  the  first  I knew  of  the  expedition,  and 
that  my  name  was  already  in  as  one  of  the  men,  but  said  I could  use  my  own  judgment 


38 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


about  going.  I said  I would  go,  and  he  introduced  me  as  the  man  he  had  for  that  expe- 
dition, and  also  as  having  stepped  out  as  an  engineer.  I was  presented  to  Andrews,  who 
was  there,  and  he  asked  me  if  I considered  myself  competent  to  take  charge  of  an  en- 
gine. I said  that  I was  perfectly  compe- 
tent, and  showed  my  papers.  He  had 
his  maps  of  the  country  spread  out  on  the 
Coloners  table,  and  showed  me  on  the 
map  where  I was  at  that  time,  and  where 
he  wanted  me  to  go.  It  looked  much 
better  on  paper  than  I afterwards  found 
it  on  land.  Andrews  also  told  me  that  I 
would  have  to  take  off  my  uniform  and 
put  on  citizen’s  clothes.  He  stated  that 
if  we  were  caught  in  the  enemy’s  lines, 
and  they  knew  us,  we  would  be  treated  as 
spies.  The  Colonel  then  gave  me  a pass 
to  go  down  and  procure  clothing,  saying 
to  take  nothing  in  my  pockets  that  would 
give  me  away,  if  captured  ; but  told  me 
if  I was  captured  to  get  out  by  enlisting 
in  the  Southern  army  or  any  way  I could, 
and  it  would  be  considered  honorable 
when  I got  back.  I went  to  town,  bought 
clothes,  got  supper  at  the  hotel,  and 
started  out  the  road  by  myself  as  he  told 


William  Knight,  Engineer.  From  a war-time  pho- 
tograph. 


me.  Before  I got  outside  the  lines  I fell  in  with  two  others,  but  as  the  party  were  all 
strangers,  I cannot  say  who  they  were.” 

Capt.  Sarratt  was  not  asked  to  select  any  man.  He  had  long  been 
fretting  over  the  four  engaged  in  the  former  attempt,  and  told  Andrews, 
with  some  satisfaction,  that  he  would  not  al- 
low any  of  his  boys  to  go  a second  time:  but 
his  surprise  was  great  when  he  was  simply  re- 
quired to  “inform  Corporal  Pittenger,  that 
he  is  selected  as  the  man  from  your  com- 
pany.” He  did  not  then  learn  the  reason 
for  what  may  have  seemed  to  him  a strange 
choice,  but  probably  attributed  it  to  Maj. 

McCook,  under  whom  I had  formerly 
served.  He  was  not  kept  long  in  the  dark. 

While  I was  busily  engaged  in  my  own 
tent,  I was  notified  that  Captain  Sarratt  was 
looking  for  me.  Going  out  into  the  com- 
pany street — for  the  hundred  men  in  a 
company  lodge  usually  in  two  lines  of  tents 
facing  each  other  at  a short  interval,  which 
is  the  place  where  the  company  forms  in  line  for  roll-call  and  other  duties; 
and  directly  across  the  end  of  this  street,  stands  the  tent  of  the  officers. 


Capt.  Jas.  F.  Sarratt. 


Selection  of  Engineers  and  Soldiers, 


39 


into  which  common  soldiers  do  not  enter  uninvited — I met  Sarratt  and 
accompanied  him  to  the  officers’  tent,  where  he  informed  me  that  Col. 
Harris  had  just  told  him  that  I was  to  go  with  Andrews  down  into 
Georgia.  He  said  further — what  I knew  perfectly  well — that  a soldier  is 
under  no  obligations  to  go  on  such  an  enterprise,  and  himself  went  to  the 
questionable  extent  of  advising  me  not  to  go. 

This  was  really  a breach  of  strict  discipline;  but  the  depth  of  his 
solicitude  overbore  all  other  considerations.  He  urged  all  the  motives 
that  seemed  likely  to  have  weight  with  me,  saying  that  he  had  enjoyed  no 
peace  while  the  other  men  were  out  of  camp,  and  that  he  was  greatly  re- 
lieved by  their  return,  but  if  I went  it  would  be  as  bad  as  ever.  His 
solicitude  affected  me  greatly,  and  I somewhat  reluctantly  informed  him 
that  I had  already  volunteered,  and  that  all  was  settled. 

He  still  urged  me  to  draw  back,  only  yielding  when  he  found  the  task 
hopeless. 

After  quite  a lengthened  interview  with  my  kind-hearted  captain,  who 
treated  me  as  a brother  rather  than  a subordinate,  he  wrote  me  out  a pass 
that  I might  go  to  Shelbyville,  a mile  distant,  and  purchase  supplies 
needed  for  the  expedition.  He  also  told  me  that  I would  probably  see 
Andrews  there,  and  advised  me  to  question  him  closely,  and  if  he  did 
not  perfectly  satisfy  me  as  to  what  he  purposed,  to  return,  without  hesi- 
tation, to  camp.  This  I promised,  but  I expected  to  be  satisfied;  then 
I took  my  leave,  promising  to  come  and  say  Good  bye,”  before  leaving 
the  camp. 

With  a throbbing  heart  and  with  suppressed  excitement  I again  walked 
between  the  lines  of  tents  looking  wistfully  upon  the  old  familiar  scenes. 

It  might  be  that  this  was  the  last  day  of  my  army  life.  The  preceding 
day,  which  was  the  Sabbath,  had  brought  with  it  a kind  of  dim  melancholy 
presentiment  as  if  some  great  change  was  impending.  There  had  been 
nothing  in  the  day  itself  to  make  one  gloomy,  for  its  quietness,  with  its 
warm  spring  beauty,  the  greenness  of  the  grass,  and  the  brightness  of  the 
sun,  are  deeply  pictured  in  my  mind,  and  I had  devoted  the  day  to  writ- 
ing to  friends,  with  the  faint  impression  that  I might  not  soon  again  have 
the  opportunity.  It  is  a little  singular  that  the  next  letter  I wrote  months 
after  that  day  went  to  Jefferson  Davis,  President  of  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy, on  a matter  of  life  and  death  to  myself  and  comrades  ! 

This  Monday  also  was  very  quiet,  for  Mitchel  had  allowed  two  days  of 
rest  and  preparation  before  the  exhausting  effort  of  his  next  dash  into  the 
heart  of  the  rebel  territory.  My  comrades,  as  I walked  down  the  street, 
were  sitting  listlessly  around  the  openings  of  their  tents,  scouring  arms 
and  accoutrements,  playing  games,  telling  stories  in  little  groups,  or 
lazily  sleeping  either  within  the  tents  or  in  the  shade  just  outside.  I 
paced  along  slowly,  observing  every  olbect  with  a kind  of  languid  atten- 


40 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


tion,  and  almost  unnoticed,  for  no  word  of  our  expedition  had  as  yet 
reached  the  common  soldiers.  A few  only  asked  me  to  stop  and  play  a 
game  with  them;  but  I answered  that  I could  not  as  I was  going  to  town. 
Some  of  them  called  back^  ‘'Get  us  a pass  and  we  will  go  with  you” — an 
offer  that  seldom  failed  to  be  made  in  good  faith  to  any  one  who  had  the 
great  luxury  of  permission  to  leave  camp. 

I soon  overtook  a friend  journeying  the  same  way,  and  had  the  pleasure 
of  his  company  to  town;  but  as  he  was  also  from  Co.  G.,  I knew  he  could 
not  be  enlisted  in  the  new  enterprise;  so  while  I enjoyed  walking  with  him 
around  the  pleasant  little  town  of  Shelbyville,  keeping  my  eyes  open  for 
Andrews,  I could  not  talk  with  him  on  the  subject  that  filled  my  mind. 
I got  rid  of  him  as  soon  as  convenient  and  began  to  inquire  for  clothing; 
others  were  on  the  same  quest,  and  as  the  town  only  contained  two  or 
three  stores  where  such  articles  could  be  bought,  the  proprietors  must 
have  wondered  to  see  the  Yankees  taking  such  a sudden  liking  to  their 
goods.  I did  not  find  a full  suit  to  my  taste,  but  knew  that  I could  easily 
supply  the  deficiency  in  camp.  Among  those  who  were  purchasing  I 
noticed  with  pleasure,  Marion  Ross,  Sergeant  Major  of  the  2nd  Ohio. 
I put  a few  cautious  questions  to  him  and  answered  as  many  in  return, 
when  we  both  became  convinced  that  we  were  on  the  same  errand.  This 
was  a pleasure,  as  I now  had  an  acquaintance  in  the  first  stages  of  the  ex- 
pedition, for,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  I had  far  more  anxiety  about  being 
able  to  find  Andrews  and  get  out  of  the  camp  in  the  right  direction,  than 
about  any  of  the  dangers  that  lay  further  on.  Our  first  business  was  to 
find  him,  and  learn  what  steps  were  next  to  be  taken.  Why  Andrews 
had  adopted  such  an  indefinite  manner  of  receiving  the  report  of  the  men 
who  had  been  assigned  to  him,  I do  not  know.  Probably  he  wanted  to 
scrutinize  carefully  those  who  were  searching  for  him,  and  notice  the  man- 
ner of  their  inquiries  and  approach  before  becoming  committed  to  them. 
No  such  purpose  could  be  accomplished  in  the  case  of  Ross  and  myself, 
as  we  both  had  known  him  before,  and  his  meditative  air  as  well  as  im- 
pressive personal  appearance,  made  him  a man  impossible  to  forget. 
Accordingly  we  recognized  him  at  once  as  we  saw  him  coming  out  of  a 
store,  and,  gaining  his  side,  we  told  him  that  we  were  to  report  to  him. 

Andrews  was  now  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  being  about  33  years  of 
age,  six  feet  in  height,  a little  stooped  when  not  excited,  weighing  180  or 
'1 90  pounds,  with  strong  and  regular  features,  very  clear  complexion,  an 
eye  dark  gray  and  penetrating,  very  abundant  black  hair,  and  a fine  long 
silken  beard  slightly  waved.  In  manners  and  address  he  was  the  ideal 
southern  gentleman.  He  gave  to  every  one  the  impression  of  gentleness 
and  strength.  His  voice  was  very  soft  and  musical,  almost  effeminate, 
never  strong,  yet  with  distinctness  and  firmness  of  tone  which  made  it 
well  suit  the  man.  His  striking  personal  qualities  added  very  much  to 
his  power. 


Selection  of  Engineers  and  Soldiers. 


41 


He  looked  at  us  sharply  for  a moment,  and  asked  us  what  we  were 
to  report  to  him  for.  We  answered  that  that  was  the  very  thing  we 
came  to  learn.  He  inquired  our  names,  rank,  company,  and  regiment. 
A few  other  questions  and  answers  followed,  when  being  satisfied,  he  told 
us  that  he  could  not  safely  say  much  to  us  in  so  public  a place,  but  that 
he  would  be  a mile  or  two  out  of  Shelbyville  on  the  Wartrace  road  shortly 
after  dark,  and  if  we  met  him  then,  he  would  give  us  full  information. 
His  manner  was  that  of  one  who  did  not  care  very  much  whether  we 
came  to  the  place  or  not.  I have  since  thought  that  this  plan  of  appoint- 
ing two  different  rendezvous,  the  one  in  the  village  and  the  other  out  in 
the  country,  and  both  of  so  indefi- 
nite a character  that  a person 
might  well  have  failed  to  find  him 
in  either,  was  intended  to  make  it 
easy  for  any  who  had  misgivings 
to  draw  back  altogether. 

There  were  some  variations  in 
the  mode  of  selection.  Porter 
went  to  the  headquarters  of  the 
2 1 St  and  there  found  one  or  two 
others  with  Andrews.  The  latter 
entered  with  some  detail  upon  the 
plan  of  his  operations — showed  a 
map  of  the  country  and  pointed 
out  the  road  over  which  they  were 
to  pass  and  the  bridges  that  were 
to  be  burned.  Porter  remembers 
that  these  bridges  were  between 
Atlanta  and  Chattanooga.  They 
were  then  shown  what  they  were 
individually  to  do,  and  ordered,  if  willing  to  enter  on  the  work,  to  report 
at  the  night  rendezvous  on  the  road  from  Shelbyville  to  Wartrace. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  and  the  bracing  evening  air  sent  the 
blood  coursing  cheerily  through  our  veins  as  Ross  and  I walked  leisurely 
back  to  camp.  We  said  nothing  to  each  other  of  our  motives  in  entering 
on  such  an  expedition,  though  I was  a good  deal  surprised  to  find  Ross 
engaged  in  it.  He  was  of  sentimental  character,  very  fastidious,  neat  and 
almost  dandyish  in  dress,  fond  of  parades,  and  generally  of  the  pomp  and 
glitter  of  war,  and  was  often  teased  for  these  qualities.  He  could  not  fail 
to  suffer  greatly  from  the  unavoidable  discomforts  of  such  a trip  as  ours, 
even  if  we  were  perfectly  successful.  But  we  did  talk  of  the  impressions 
formed  of  our  leader.  Ross  requested  me — with,  as  I thought,  a shade  of 
anxiety  in  his  tone — to  give  my  real  opinion  of  Andrews.  I answered 


42 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


with  enthusiasm.  The  strong  influence  this  singular  man  never  failed  to 
exert  over  those  who  were  brought  into  contact  with  him^  was  already  at 
work.  His  thoughtful,  pensive  manner,  his  soft  mild  voice,  not  louder 
than  a woman’s,  yet  with  every  accent  firm  and  decided,  his  grace,  refine- 
ment and  dignity,  made  me  at  once  declare  him  to  be  far  above  the  ordi- 
nary type  of  manhood.  He  did,  however,  seem  more  like  a dreamer,  a 
poer,  or  a martyr,  than  a military  leader  or  dauntless  adventurer,  yet  there 
was  something  of  each  of  these  in  his  composition.  I would  have  trusted 
him  to  the  end  of  the  earth  ! Ross  expressed  a similar  opinion,  and  yet 
along  with  it  a fear  that  possibly  Andrews  had  now  undertaken  more  than 
he  could  carry  through.  However  we  did  not  pursue  that  thought  far, 
for  neither  of  us  knew  definitely  what  he  did  propose,  and  felt  a strong 
curiosity  for  the  fuller  revelation  the  night  promised. 

On  nearing  our  tents  we  parted  to  make  our  separate  arrangements. 
I found  that  a marked  change  had  taken  place  in  the  camp.  Listlessness 
had  given  place  to  curiosity.  Several  soldiers,  I was  told,  had  arrayed 
themselves  in  citizen’s  dress  and  left  the  regiment.  I did  not  stop  to  hear 
conjectures  about  this,  but  hurried  to  the  tent  of  one  of  the  number  who 
had  been  out  with  Andrews  before,  and  from  him  borrowed  the  articles  of 
clothing  needed  to  complete  my  outfit.  These  were  never  returned  ! 
Then  I took  off  the  army  blue  which  I had  worn  so  long,  and  of  which  I 
was  so  proud,  carefully  folded  it  in  my  knapsack,  and  getting  all  my  arms 
and  equipments  in  order,  left  directions  with  some  of  my  tent-mates  to 
have  them  turned  over  to  the  proper  authorities.  I might  have  spared 
this  trouble,  as  far  as  I was  personally  concerned,  for  ajl  were  lost  in  the 
terrible  battles  and  marches  that  followed. 

When  I was  divested  of  every  trace  of  the  army,  and  clad  only  in  the 
plain  garb  of  every-day  life,  I stepped  out  into  the  company  street.  My 
changed  appearance  caused  a sensation  at  once.  The  word  was  passed 
from  tent  to  tent,  and  soon  all  that  were  not  on  guard  or  otherwise  out  of 
reach,  came  around  me  and  began  to  shower  questions  faster  than  a dozen 
men  could  have  answered.  “ Pittenger,  got  a furlough  ? Got  a discharge  ? 
Going  home?  Going  out  as  a spy — these  are  .a  few  specimens  only. 
My  appearance  confirmed  the  impression  that  I heard  expressed  by  a 
hundred  voices:  ‘‘There’s  something  up!”  I did  not  care  to  contradict 
this  natural  inference,  and  answering  all  questions  at  random,  I hurried 
across  the  line  of  tents  to  the  adjoining  company,  and  passing  at  once  to 
the  tent  that  sheltered  my  cousin.  Mills,  who  was  on  the  former  expedition, 
I lifted  the  flap  and  went  quickly  in,  for  this  company  was  also  in  a state 
of  ferment.  Mills,  who  was  uneducated,  but  very  shrewd,  asked  no 
questions,  as  he  understood  the  hubbub  outside  and  my  own  transforma- 
tion. He  said,  with  an  expression  of  strong  disapproval,  not  far  removed 
from  contempt, 


Selection  of  Engineers  and  Soldiers, 


43 


“ So  ! you  are  going  with  Andrews.*’ 

I assented,  and  then  told  him  that  my  errand  to  him  now  was  to  borrow 
his  revolver— he  had  a very  fine  one. 

He  freely  gave  the  weapon,  but  added  the  opinion  that  if  I knew  when 
I was  well  off,  I would  stay  in  camp,  closing  with  the  candid  words:  Be- 
cause I was  fool  enough  to  go  with  Andrews,  it  does  not  follow  that  you 
need  be.” 

When  cartridges  had  been  liberally  supplied  with  the  revolver,  1 had 
everything  needed  for  starting,  and  it  was  nearly  time  to  be  off.  This 
was  to  be  the  final  farewell  to  the  camp  until  the  great  effort  had  been 
made.  I had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  trying  to  recede,  even  if  it  had  then 
been  possible  without  disgrace;  but  a sense  of  solemnity  and  awe,  a kind 
of  shadow  over  the  inward  landscape,  was  very  distinctly  felt.  I resolved 
not  to  try  to  steal  away  as  the  first  party  had  done,  though  that  was  the 
right  thing  for  them  to  do;  but  now  their  report  to  their  comrades,  and 
the  excitement  caused  by  seeing  the  adventurers  arrayed  in  citizen’s 
dress,  rendered  it  impossible  to  conceal  the  fact  that  we  were  leaving  the 
camp  for  some  kind  of  perilous  enterprise,  and  there  was  no  harm  in  the 
luxury  of  saying  farewell.  First  I went  to  headquarters  and  took  Cap- 
tain Sarratt  once  more  by  the  hand;  he  could  scarcely  say  a word,  and  all 
his  accustomed  jests  were  silenced.  I long  remembered  his  troubled,  half- 
reproachful look.  Then  I wrung  the  hands  of  all  my  old  comrades  cs  for 
the  last  time  I walked  down  the  company  street.  I had  tramped  with  them 
over  Kentucky  and  the  half  of  Tennessee;  had  stood  guard  on  many  a 
dark  and  wintry  night;  had  slept  by  their  side  in  the  open  air  when  our 
heads  were  whitened  with  frost;  had  floated  with  them  down  a mountain 
stream  on  rafts  and  logs;  and  it  was  not  easy  to  leave  them,  for  most  of 
them  did  not  expect  to  see  me  again,  and  I half  feared  they  were  right. 
Some  of  them  did  their  best  to  even  yet  have  me  give  up  the  journey,  but 
most  realized  that  I had  gone  too  far.  Alexander  Mills  was  especially 
devoted.  He  was  a cousin  (and  also  of  B.  F.  Mills),  and  from  the  day  of 
enlistment  had  been  my  inseparable  companion.  So  close  was  our  con- 
fidence that  the  only  thing  in  army  life  I ever  kept  from  him  was  my 
desire  to  go  on  this  expedition.  He  was  determined  to  keep  me  back  or 
to  go  along.  Failing  in  the  first  he  tried  the  latter,  though  he  had  been 
some  time  seriously  sick  with  fever.  Receiving  no  encouragement  from 
Captain  Sarratt,  he  hurried  up  to  the  Colonel’s  quarters  and  pleaded  to  be 
permitted  to  go  along  so  importunately  that  Col.  Harris  not  only  refused 
but  threatened  to  have  him  arrested  if  he  tried  to  leave  camp  without  per- 
mission. Then  he  came  back  and  said  “Good  bye”  with  tears  on  his 
cheeks.  He  was  refused  only  because  of  sickness,  for  he  was  efficient  in 
every  duty:  but  in  the  troubles  that  speedily  came,  I would  have  been 
sorry  to  have  had  him  share  the  hardship  and  danger,  great  as  the  com^ 


44 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


fort  of  his  presence  would  have  been.  Alas  ! he  now  lies  buried  near  the 
top  of  a beautiful  hill  in  the  National  Cemetery  at  Chattanooga,  shot  while 
bravely  carrying  the  2nd  Ohio  colors  in  the  storming  of  Missionary-^ 
Ridge,  eighteen  months  later — the  very  battle  which  assured  possession 
of  that  town  toward  which  our  thoughts  and  efforts  were  now  turned. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


DEPARTURE  AT  NIGHT. 


WHEN  the  painful  parting  from  comrades  in  camp  was  over,  I 
looked  up  Sergeant  Ross,  and  we  returned  to  Shelbyville.  It  was 
still  early,  and  for  an  hour  or  two  we  lingered  around  the  stores  and 
street  corners.  Several  persons  had  been  seen  that  we  thought  belonged 
to  our  party,  but  we  did  not  like  to  take  the  risk  of  ascertaining,  espec- 
ially as  all  of  us  would  soon  meet. 

We  made  sure  of  the  road  to  War- 
trace — a small  village  almost  due 
east  from  Shelbyville,  situated  at 
a railroad  junction  where  a branch 
leaves  the  main  Chattanooga  and 
Nashville  line  for  Shelbyville. 

Then  leaving  town  we  continued 
along  the  road  until  the  twilight 
had  nearly  faded,  leaving  us  only 
the  light  of  the  new  moon,  which 
hung  low  in  the  west.  Our  pace 
was  slow,  for  we  had  only  about  a 
mile  to  journey,  and  as  no  espe- 
cial place  was  appointed  for  the 
rendezvous,  we  had  nothing  to  do 
but  look  for  Andrews  and  our 
comrades.  Several  persons  were 
met,  but  they  were  going  toward 
Shelbyville.  We  ventured  to  accost  some  of  these,  but  could  get  no  re- 
port of  any  travellers  ahead.  It  was  perplexing  to  be  so  long  alone,  and 
we  looked  most  anxiously  for  others  of  the  party. 

Seeing  a house  a few  yards  from  the  road  we  climbed  over  the  post 
and  rail  fence — there  was  no  gate  visible — and  went  up  to  the  door  to  get 
a drink  of  water  and  learn  how  far  we  were  from  Shelbyville.  Before  we 
came  up  to  the  house,  however,  a dog  darted  from  some  place  of  conceal- 
ment and  bit  my  friend  on  the  leg,  and  was  instantly  back  into  the  dark- 
ness. It  was  only  a trifling  bite,  about  which  I laughed;  but  when  we 
turned  to  go,  after  completing  our  inquiries,  the  same  dog  came  upon 
us  once  more.  Ross  was  on  his  guard  and  leaped  over  the  fence,  but  I 


Wn.LiAM  PiTTENGER.  Before  the  war. 


46 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


stopped  on  top  of  it  and  laughed  at  his  hurry.  The  dog  sprang  at  me, 
and  was  just  able  to  reach  the  skirt  of  my  coat,  which  he  seized,  tearing 
a large  piece  out  of  it.  That  coat,  thus  ^^/rtailed,  I was  obliged  to  wear 
for  nearly  a year,  and  over  a large  part  of  the  Southern  States  ! Ross  fired 
at  the  dog  just  as  he  hung  by  the  coat,  but  in  the  darkness  the  aim  was 
uncertain,  and  he  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  he  came.  A superstitious 
person  might  look  on  this  trivial  incident  as  an  omen  of  the  result  of  our 
enterprise,  which  proved  disastrous  to  me  and  fatal  to  my  companion. 

We  now  proceeded  on  our  way,  but  felt  no  small  degree  of  anxiety. 
We  were  not  in  any  danger,  for  we  were  yet  inside  the  Union  pickets,  and 
could  return  to  camp  without  difficulty;  but  this  was  just  what  we  did  not 
wish.  Darkness  was  closing  in,  and  we  knew  not  whether  our  comrades 
were  ahead  of  us  or  behind — whether  they  might  not  be  even  now  receiv- 
ing those  final  instructions  without  which  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to 
proceed.  We  went  on  in  the  increasing  darkness  until  sure  that  we  were 
far  enough,  and  then  concluding  that  we  must  have  taken  the  vvrong  road, 
we  turned  back  toward  Shelbyville.  When  in  sight  of  town,  at  a point 
where  no  one  could  pass  without  notice,  we  halted  and  waited  for  nearly 
an  hour  longer. 

The  time  passed  wearily.  We  spoke  of  the  ludicrous  figure  we  would 
make  in  camp  after  all  our  elaborate  preparations  and  solemn  leave  taking, 
should  we  be  obliged  to  go  back.  Probably  some  comrades  would  think 
— and  at  any  rate,  some  would  be  sure  to  charge — that  we  got  lost  on 
purpose;  that  cowardice  and  not  a mistaken  road  was  the  motive  for  our, 
return  ! I will  not  say  that  there  were  not  times  in  the  succeeding  months 
when  we  wished  that  we  had  failed  to  find  Andrews  that  night ! but  now 
we  scrutinized  each  footman  with  the  closest  care,  hoping  that  our  sus- 
pense might  soon  end. 

At  length  two  men  came  along  whose  watchful  and  expectant  manner 
was  so  expressive  of  feelings  like  our  own  that  we  joined  them,  and  readily 
ascertained  that  they  did  belong  to  our  band.  Their  directions  were  more 
explicit  than  ours,  and  they  said  that  our  only  trouble  arose  from  being 
too  early.  We  now  journeyed  along  very  contentedly  and  leisurely,  and 
other  travellers  overtook  us  until  we  numbered  nearly  a score.  Next 
Andrews  himself  came  up — I think  he  was  on  horseback,  though,  if  so, 
he  soon  left  the  horse  in  some  concealed  place  and  joined  us  on  foot. 
All  our  fears  of  being  lost  were  ended;  and  proceeding  a few  hundred 
yards — a little  further  from  Shelbyville  than  Ross  and  I alone  had 
been — we  halted  beside  the  road  until  another  squad  of  our  men  arrived. 
We  remained  here  a short  time,  sitting  around  carelessly,  and  conversing 
but  little,  for  our  number  was  not  quite  full^  and  our  leader  had  the  air  of 
not  wishing  to  speak  till  all  were  gathered  to  hear. 

After  a considerable  time  longer,  daring  which  no  one  spoke  much 


Departtire  at  Night, 


47 


above  a whisper — the  night  and  solitude  and  intense  curiosity  had  disposed 
to  silence — Andrews  seemed  satisfied  that  no  more  were  coming,  and  ris- 
ing said  in  the  low  distinct  tones  that  became  so  familiar  to  us,  “ Let  us 
go  a little  way  from  the  road,  boys/’  He  led  the  way  up  a slight  slope 
on  the  right-hand  side,  through  stunted  bushes,  to  a level  spot  near  the 
summit.  We  followed,  and  gathered  in  a compact  cluster  around  him. 
Twenty-three  were  present.  Andrews  had  been  authorized  to  take  twenty- 
four,  but  this  was  the  number  who  actually  met  at  this  place  for  consulta- 
tion. Recent  inquiries  have  led  to  the  belief  that  at  least  thirty  were  de- 
tailed, one  from  each  company  of  the  three  regiments,  but  that  the  others 
had  been  lost,  as  Ross  and  I nearly  were,  had  refused  the  service  as  too 
hazardous,  or  had  been  turned  back  by  Andrews  himself.  It  was  reason- 
able that  some  latitude  should  be  allowed  for  selection  on  both  sides. 

We  now  stood  in  a little  thicket  of  dead  and  withered  trees,  with  a few 
smaller  bushes  around,  but  the  place  was  sufficiently  open  to  assure  us 
that  no  listener  could  be  concealed  within  hearing.  Probably  the  dramatic 
circumstances  of  this  first  meeting  were  not  consciously  selected  by  our 
leader,  but  nothing  could  have  been  devised  to  impress  more  deeply  the 
ardent  young  soldiers  by  whom  he  was  now  surrounded.  A storm  was 
rising,  though  the  afternoon  had  been  so  bright,  and  the  wind  began  to 
moan  at  intervals  through  the  naked  trees.  The  mutter  of  thunder  was 
also  heard,  faintly  at  first,  but  it  soon  came  near  and  loud,  while  the 
flashes  of  lightning,  more  vivid  in  the  darkness,  enabled  us  to  see 
each  other’s  faces  for  a moment,  and  then  left  us  in  total  obscurity. 
Andrews  spoke  as  quietly  as  before,  stopping  when  the  thunder  roll  was 
too  loud  for  him  to  be  heard,  and  resuming  the  moment  it  ceased.  The 
storm  had  little  terror  for  soldiers  who  were  accustomed  to  stand  guard, 
march,  sleep,  or  fight,  by  day  or  night,  regardless  of  the  commotion  of 
the  elements,  or  only  grumbling  a little  at  the  discomfort. 

But  one  noise  stands  out  more  vividly  amid  the  sounds  of  night  and 
darkness  than  any  other — the  howling  of  a dog  from  the  other  side  of  an 
interv^ening  valley.  There  is  a tinge  of  superstition  in  the  veins  of  most 
people,  and  the  majority  of  us  would  have  listened  with  more  pleasure  to 
almost  any  other  sound 

Two  purposes  were  to  be  accomplished  at  this  conference.  We  were 
to  learn  enough  of  the  plans  of  our  leader  and  the  risks  involved  to  decide 
intelligently  whether  to  go  on  with  him  or  to  return  to  camp.  In  a sense 
this  was  a mere  form;  for  every  one  of  us  had  already  made  up  his 
mind  to  follow  Andre\vs  to  the  death.  But  to  satisfy  orders  and  mili- 
tary custom  it  was  necessary  that  the  offer  should  be  formally  made, 
and  as  formally  accepted  or  rejected.  Acceptance  here  made  every  one 
of  us  really  volunteers  although  we  falsely  claimed  in  the  South  that  we 
were  detailed  without  our  knowledge  or  consent,  and  clung  to  that  story 


48 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


without  the  slightest  wavering  until  the  last  man  was  out  of  the  power  of 
the  enemy;  and  it  is  a touching  instance  of  Andrews’s  care  for  the  life  of 
his  men^  that  almost  in  his  dying  hour  he  confirmed  this  claim — although 
in  so  doing  he  seemed  to  leave  his  own  memory  under  a cloud.  But  the 
truth  is  that  he  did  state  explicitly  that  if  we  were  detected  by  the  enemy 
while  in  disguise  beyond  our  own  lines  we  would  in  all  probability  be  mas- 
sacred at  once  or  hung  as  spies;  and  declared  that  we  were  free  to  return 
to  our  own  tents,  without  other  condition  than  the  promise  to  keep  all  that 
he  had  communicated  a secret.  No  one,  however^  showed  the  faintest 
desire  to  avail  himself  of  this  offer.  If  any  had  been  detailed  who  were 
not  willing  to  incur  the  hazard  and  responsibility  involved^  they  had 
already  been  sifted  out  by  their  failure  to  report  at  this  point. 

The  other  purpose  of  the  conference  was  of  a more  practical  character; 
it  was  to  receive  such  instructions  and  information  as  would  enable  us  to 
cooperate  intelligently  with  our  leader.  What  was  our  destination  ? How 
were  we  to  get  to  the  scene  of  action  ? And  how  were  subsequent 
orders  to  reach  us  ? These  were  a few  of  the  questions  that  naturally 
pressed  for  answer. 

The  opening  words  of  Andrews  to  the  men  who  clustered  around  him 
were  exceedingly  informal, — far  more  like  a talk  than  a set  speech^  and 
hardly  so  loud  as  an  ordinary  conversation.  Though  I listened  with  burn- 
ing attention  to  every  word,  yet  I cannot  claim  that  the  language  used 
below  is  literally  exact.  There  was  explanation,  repetition,  and  enlarge- 
ment of  parts  not  fully  understood,  with  frequent  question  and  answer. 
Andrews  sometimes  spoke  to  all,  and  sometimes  to  one  or  more  who 
wanted  information  bn  special -points.  He  said: 

“You  will  break  up  in  small  squads  of  two,  three,  or  four,  and  travel  east 
into  the  Cumberland  mountains,  then  south  to  the  Tennessee  River.  You 
can  cross  the  river  and  take  passage  on  the  cars  at  Shell-Mound  or  some 
station  between  that  and  Chattanooga  on  the  Memphis  and  Charleston 
Railroad.  You  must  be  at  Chattanooga  not  later  than  Thursday  after- 
noon, and  reach  Marietta  the  same  evening,  ready  to  take  passage  north- 
ward on  the  train  the  next  morning.  I will  be  there  with  you,  or  before 
you,  and  will  then  tell  you  what  to  do.” 

” The  road,”  he  added,  “ is  long  and  difficult,  and  you  will  have  only 
three  days  and  nights  in  which  to  reach  Marietta.  I will  give  you  plenty 
of  money,  and  you  may  hire  conveyances  whenever  safe  and  convenient. 
I will  ride  along  the  same  road  that  you  are  to  travel,  sometimes  before, 
and  sometimes  behind,  and  will  give  you  any  help  in  my  power.  If  you 
should  be  arrested  I may  have  influence  enough  to  secure  your  release; 
but  depend  on  yourselves  and  be  watchful  and  prudent.  Do  not  recog- 
nize me  unless  sure  that  we  are  alone. 

Some  of  our  party  had  travelled  enough  in  the  South  to  know  that  for 


inquisitiveness  as  to  the  destination  of  a st 
midst,  the  people  of  that  section  are  not  a 


Departure  at  Ni 


of  Yankees,  and  therefore  inquired,  “ What  accoTn^^^^^^egive  of  our- 
selves if  asked  who  we  are,  and  why  we  are  coming  South?” 

Andrews  answered; 

“ The  most  plausible  thing  will  be  to  tell  them  that  you  are  Ken- 
tuckians escaping  from  the  rule  of  the  Yankees;  and  that  you  expect  to 
join  some  Southern  Regiment.  Say  just  as  little  as  will  carry  you  through, 
and  always  have  some  reason  for  not  joining  just  then.  After  you  get 
into  the  mountains  you  will  be  in  the  track  of  the  Kentuckians  who  travel 
South,  and  will  seem  to  be  coming  from  there  rather  than  from  the  Union 
army;  so  you  need  not  have  much  trouble.  But  if  you  should  be  closely 
questioned  it  will  be  safe  to  say  that  you  are  from  Fleming  Co.,  Ky.,  for 
I happen -to  know  that  no  Southern  soldiers  hail  from  that  place,  and  you 
will  not  be  confronted  with  any  one  who  knows  you  are  not.’^ 

Fleming  County  was  that  in  which  Andrews  had  resided  for  several 
years  preceding  the  war,  and  it  was  largely  owing  to  his  influence  that  the 
State  Guard  of  that  county  had  been  preserved  loyal  to  the  Union  and  had 
furnished  no  recruits  to  the  rebel  army.  His  directions  were  listened  to 
with  absorbing  interest,  and  the  last  one  turned  out  long  afterward  to  be 
a deadly  snare.  But  this  contingency  could  scarcely  then  have  been 
foreseen, 

“ But  if  we  are  completely  cornered  and  they  will  not  believe  our 
stories,  what  then?  ” asked  another  of  the  soldiers. 

“ In  such  a case,  don’t  hesitate  to  enlist.  It  will  be  far  better  to  serv,e 
a little  while  with  the  rebels  than  to  run  the  risk  of  discovering  our  plans 
by  holding  out.  You  can  probably  get  away  from  them  some  dark  night 
on  picket.  You  are  fully  authorized  to  take  any  course  that  may  seem 
best,  and  no  one  of  you  will  be  suspected  of  desertion  even  if  found  among 
the  rebels.” 

Another  inquired: 

“Is  it  likely  that  a man  who  can  give  no  satisfactory  account  of  him- 
self will  be  permitted  to  join  their  army?” 

“There  will  not  be  the  least  trouble  about  that,”  Andrews  replied; 
“the  difficulty  is  to  keep  out  of  the  Southern  army,  not  to  get  into  it. 
They  are  picking  up  men  everywhere,  and  forcing  them  to  enlist,  and  are 
emptying  the  jails  for  the  same  purpose.  Stick  to  whatever  story  you 
tell,  and  as  long  as  they  do  not  get  any  proof  that  you  are  a Union  soldier, 
they  will  be  ready  to  hurry  you  into  the  service  even  if  they  don’t  believe 
a word  you  say,  as  the  best  way  of  disposing  of  you.  But  I hope  that 
you  will  not  be  suspected  at  all,  and  will  meet  me  promptly  at  Marietta. 
Probably  you  will  not  fall  in  with  any  Southern  troops,  and  the  country 
people  will  help  rather  than  hinder  you,” 


4 


ing  and  Suffering. 


spell-bound  to  every  word,  studying  the 
1 was  not  disposed  to  ask  any  ^questions 
as  to  the  ri^^BBHUI^^xpeaition,  for  I had  already  learned  a good  deal 
about  it.  But  there  was  another  contingency  far  ahead,  which  had  a deep 
personal  interest  to  me.  I greatly  disliked  the  thought  of  being  left  alone 
under  aii}^  circumstances — probably  because  of  defective  vision — but 
always  felt  comparatively  easy  when  I had  a trusted  comrade. whose  eyes 
I could  use  for  distant  objects.  I was  willing  to  risk  the  journey  South- 
ward with  a small  squad,  for  I could  see  how  persons  moving  in  that 
direction  would  find  it  easy  to  allay  suspicion,  but  was  much  more  solicit- 
ous about  the  return  journey,  and  asked  Andrews  whether  after  we  had 
captured  the  train  and  used  it  in  burning  the  bridges,  we  were  to  abandon 
it  and  try  to  steal  north  as  we  were  now  stealing  toward  the  south. 

He  answered  me  very  explicitly,  and  in  so  doing  revealed  still  more 
of  the  general  plan. 

“No,”  he  said;  “General  Mitchel  starts  south  in  the  morning  for  a 
forced  march  with  all  his  energy,  and  he  will  surprise  and  capture  Hunts- 
ville on  Friday,  the  very  day  we  are  to  capture  the  train;  so  that  when  we 
get  back  to  that  point  we  will  find  him  ready  to  receive  us.  If  we  cannot 
quite  reach  him,  we  will  leave  the  train  close  to  our  lines  and  dash  through 
in  a body.” 

This  was  glorious.  The  thought  of  such  a coming  into  camp  after 
piercing  the  heart  of  the  Confederacy,  set  every  nerve  on  fire  ! But  there 
was  another  possibility  and  I wanted  to  see  that  also  provided  for.  So  I 
asked  again,  whether,  if  we  failed  to  run  the  captured  train  through 
Chattanooga  and  had  to  leave  it  south  of  that  point  we  would  still  cling 
together. 

He  answered  emphatically; 

“When  we  once  meet  at  Marietta,  we  will  stay  together  and  either 
come  through  in  a body  or  die  together.^’ 

This  satisfied  me  perfectly,  and  there  was  little  but  desultory  conversa- 
tion afterwards.  Andrews  called  on  the  men  to  form  their  squads  accord- 
ing to  their  own  preferences  and  then  commenced  distributing  Confederate 
money  among  them,  giving  sufficient  to  one  man  of  each  group  for  all  — 
though  without  intending  to  constitute  the  man  so  favored  the  leader  of 
his  comrades. 

This  formation  of  these  little  travelling  companies  was  a somewhat 
delicate  matter,  and  in  the  hurry,  was  not  always  arranged  to  perfect  sat- 
isfaction. I wished  the  company  of  Ross,  but  he  asked  permission  to  go 
along  with  Andrews  as  far  as  he  could -accompany  any  of  the  party,  and 
one  or  two  others  making  the  same  request,  they  were  thrown  together, 
and  I had  to  find  other  companions.  I was  exceedingly  fortunate,  as  two 
men  of  Captain  Mitcheks,  and  one  from  Company  B,  the  next  in  regi- 


Departure  at  Night, 


51 


mental  line,  fell  to  my  portion.  We  constituted  the  left  wing  of  tlie 
2nd  Ohio  ! The  work  of  division  was  now  completed;  the  hour  for 
parting  had  arrived;  and  we  once  more  listened  to  the  words  of  our  com- 
mander. 

“ Boys/^  he  began,  “ we  are  entering  on  a very  hazardous  expedition, 
but  it  will  be  glorious  in  its  results,  and  will  give  the  enemy  the  most 
deadly  blow  he  has  yet  received.  What  a grand  thing  it  will  be  to  run 
through  the  South  leaving  the  bridges  burning  and  the  foe  in  helpless 
rage  behind  ! If  we  burn  those  bridges,  Mitchel  will  capture  Chattanooga 
the  very  next  da}g  and  all  East  Tennessee  will  be  open  before  him.  But 
we  must  be  prompt,  for  if  he  gets  to  Huntsville  before  us,  the  road  will 
be  so  crowded  with  reinforcements  moving  against  him  that  our  task  will 
be  much  harder.  But  if  we  have  the  bridges  down  first  they  can  send 
no  force  against  him,  and  he  will  have  everything  his  own  way.  The  last 
train  leaves  Chattanooga  for  Marietta  at  five  in  the  afternoon.  Be  sure 
to  catch  it  not  later  than  Thursday,  and  I will  either  be  on  it,  or  an  earlier 
one — good  bye  ! ” 

About  this  time  the  rain  began  to  fall — gently  at  first — but  it  soon 
came  down  in  torrents.  One  group  after  another  filed  off  with  military 
precision  from  the  place  of  meeting,  and  Andrews  shook  hands  heartily 
with  the  members  of  each  as  they  passed.  A considerable  interval  of 
time  was  permitted  to  elapse  between  the  starting  of  each  squad  and  the 
succeeding  one,  for  the  separation  was  to  be  made  from  this  point,  and 
we  did  not  wish  to  meet  again  till  Marietta,  Ga.,  was  reached^  or  at  least, 
till  on  board  the  last  train  of  cars  leading  to  that  point. 

As  we  picked  our  uncertain  way  along  the  railroad,  stumbling  over  the 
ties  which  were  visible  only  by  the  lightning  flashes,  I looked  back  and 
saw  Andrews,  with  none  but  the  three  members  of  the  last  group  near 
him.  He  was  looking  after  us,  his  head  bent  slightly  forward  in  the 
pensive  attitude  habitual  with  him,  and  a broad  stream  of  lightning  made 
him  at  that  moment  stand  out  as  clearly  as  the  mid-day;  the  next  moment 
he  disappeared  in  utter  darkness,  and  the  crash  of  thunder  overhead 
drowned  every  other  sound.  We  hurried  on  our  way  and  were  soon  far 
from  the  place  of  meeting. 


52 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Seen  by  the  Lightning  Flash. 


( 


CHAPTER  V. 

PREVIOUS  HISTORY  OF  JAMES  J.  ANDREWS. 

There  are  few  more  romantic  figures  among  those  who  rose  into 
prominence  during  the  great  civil  war  than  James  J.  Andrews.  The 
manner  in  which  he  inspired  confidence  among  the  officers  of  the 
Northern  and  Southern  armies  alike,  and  bound  to  him  all  the  private 
soldiers  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  is  very  remarkable.  The  charac- 
ter of  our  parting  from  him  at  the  beginning  of  the  furious  thunderstorm 


Flemingsburg,  Ky.  From  a photograph. 


on  the  evening  of  April  7,  1862,  which  was  a fitting  emblem  of  the  enter- 
prise on  which  we  had  entered,  shows  how  strong  was  the  impression  he 
had  already  made  upon  us.  After  that  interview  I felt  no  doubt  as  to  the 
issue  of  the  enterprise.  The  quiet  confidence  and  matter-of-fact  tone  of 
Andrews  assured  me  of  success.  Similar  feelings  were  expressed  by 
other  members  of  the  party. 

Who  was  he,  and  how  had  he  come  to  occupy  his  unique  position — 
neither  a soldier  nor  an  officer,  yet  counseling  officers  and  commanding 


54 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


soldiers?  None  of  our  party  could  have  answered  this  question  then,  but 
it  is  well  to  give  the  reader  all  the  information  since  acquired  by  diligent 
search  at  Flemingsburg  and  elsewhere. 

Flemingsburg  is  a small  rural  county  seat,  situated  on  the  slope  of  a 
steep  hill,  on  the  border  of  the  “ blue  grass  ” region  of  Kentucky.  The 
population,  only  1200,  has  scarcely  changed  since  the  beginning  of  the 
war.  The  branch  of  a small  railroad  now  leads  to  it,  but  then  it  was 
almost  completely  isolated,  being  seventeen  miles  distant  by  turnpike  from 
Maysville  on  the  Ohio  River,  its  nearest  point  of  communication  with  the 
outside  world. 

One  day  in  the  spring  of  1859,  a traveller  came  either  by  stage  or  on 
foot  into  this  secluded  village.  He  joined  a group  of  idlers  near  the 
brick  hotel  opposite  the  court-house,  and  listened  for  a time  in  silence 
to  the  desultory  conversation.  At  length  he  made  some  inquiries,  and  in 
response  to  questions  addressed  to  himself,  said  that  he  had  just  come  up 
from  Maysville,  and  had  thought  of  seeking  a position  as  school-teacher. 
Noticing  the  name  “Andrews’’  on  a sign  across  the  street,  he  asked  if 
there  were  many  of  those  people  in  town.  Being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, and  assured  that  they  were  among  the  leading  citizens  of  the  place, 
he  said,  “ That  is  mj  own  name,  and  I think  I will  go  no  further,  but 
make  my  home  here  for  awhile.  ’ ’ He  further  stated  that  he  was  a native  of 
Hancock  Co.,  West  Virginia,  and  that  he  had  come  down  to  Maysville  on  a 
raft.  Though  he  had  little  money  or  apparent  means,  he  was  cordially 
received,  and  made  to  feel  at  home.  No  opportunity  presenting  for  em- 
ployment as  teacher,  he  began  work  as  house  and  ornamental  painter,  and 
was  very  skillful.  He  had  a beautiful  voice  as  a singer,  and  taught  several 
“ singing  schools  ’’  in  the  evenings,  becoming  a general  favorite  with 
young  and  old. 

There  was  always  an  air  of  reserve  and  mystery  about  him.  He 
seemed,  as  one  of  the  citizens  told  me,  “ like  a man  who  had  a story.” 
His  wide  information  and  refinement  of  manner,  his  manly  beauty  and 
easy  grace  in  any  company,  gave  him  a marked  ascendancy  over  his  com- 
panions, even  while  he  tried  to  be  one  of  them.  Nothing  definite  or  posi- 
tive was  known  of  his  former  life;  and  while  no  one  cared  to  ask  him 
directly  on  the  subject,  a story  was  generally  circulated  as  having  originated 
with  himself,  to  the  effect  that  his  father  had  entrusted  him  with  $5,000, 
which  he  invested  in  a flouring  mill  with  wool-carding  attachment,  in 
Ohio,  but  that  the  mill  had  burned  without  any  insurance,  and  that  when 
he  returned  to  his  father’s,  a sister  reproached  him  so  bitterly  with  this 
loss  that  he  left  home,  resolving  that  his  family  should  not  hear  from 
him  until  he  had  more  than  made  this  amount  good.  A modification  of 
the  same  story  of  a still  more  romantic  type  was  afterward  told  by  him  to 
some  members  of  our  party.  I give  it  as  repeated  by  Jacob  Parrot  from 
memory,  and,  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years,  it  is  possibly  not  accurate 


55 


Previous  History  of  James  /,  Andrews. 

in  all  details.  It  was  said  that  shortly  before  the  burning  of  the  mill,  Mr. 
Andrews  had  been  on  very  friendly  terms  with  two  young  ladies,  and  ulti- 
mately became  engaged  to  one  of  them.  When  all  his  property  was  lost 
in  the  flames,  this  lady  wrote  him  a very  chilling  letter,  asking,  in  view 
of  changed  circumstances,  a release  from  the  engagement.  He  at  once 
took  this  letter  to  the  other  lady,  and  finding  the  warmth  of  her  sympathy 
a grateful  contrast,  he  offered  himself  and  was  accepted.  But  his  trials 
were  not  yet  over.  Within  a month  of  the  period  fixed  for  marriage,  the 
second  lady — he  never  gave  the 
names  of  either  — suddenly  died. 

The  three-fold  disappointment — 
loss  of  money, the  unfaithfulness  of 
his  first  love,  and  the  death  of  the 
second — so  wrought  upon  him  that 
he  left  his  home  and  resolved  to 
make  for  himself  a new  life  amid 
new  scenes.  His  parents  had  pre- 
viously removed  from  West  Vir- 
ginia to  Southwestern  Missouri. 

I have  never  been  able  to  find 
the  location  of  this  mill  or  to  veri- 
fy the  story  in  either  form.  But 
the  absence  of  all  references  to  his 
former  life  in  his  last  letter  and 
bequests,^  the  heartiness  with 
which  he  accepted  the  secluded 
Flemingsburg  as  his  -new  home, 
together  with  a kind  of  pensive- 
ness and  melancholy  which  were  manifest  when  not  actively  engaged, 
all  point  to  some  decisive  break  in  his  history. 

Most  of  the  people  of  Flemingsburg  were  convinced  that  Mr.  Andrews 
was  very  anxious  to  make  money.  Yet  this  conviction  seemed  to  have 
no  other  basis  than  his  own  words.  He  was  not  at  all  penurious,  was 
strictly  honest,  and  seemed  to  have  done  no  more  than  maintain  himself 
respectably. 

Some  months  later,  an  incident  occurred  which  made  Mr,  Andrews 
feel  still  more  at  home  in  Fleming  County.  An  old  gentleman,  named 
Lindsey,  who  lived  some  seven  or  eight  miles  from  Flemingsburg,  on  the 
Maysville  Turnpike,  partially  rebuilt  his  house  and  employed  Mr. Andrews 
to  do  the  necessary  painting.  While  thus  engaged,  he  became  intimate 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lindsey,  and  they  frequently  jested  with  him  about  • 


^ See  Chapter  XXL 


56 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


his  growing  so  old  without  marrying.  He  answered  that  he  could  find  nc 
lady  willing  to  accept  him,  who  would  not  be  extravagant  and  wasteful  of 
the  property  that  he  wished  to  earn.  Lindsey  rejoined  that  he  knew  one 
who  possessed  every  desirable  quality,  without  being  in  the  least  tainted 
with  the  defect  feared.  Andrews,  still  jesting,  promised  that  if  introduced 
to  such  a model  woman,  he  would  at  least  try  to  win  her.  Mr.  Lindsey 
was  a sympathizer  with  the  South  in  the  angry  controversies  that  already 
began  to  presage  war,  while  Andrews  was  as  firm  on  the  other  side;  but 


Miss  Kt.tzareth  J.  Layton.  From  a photograph  belonging  to  Mrs.  Wm.  Rawlins. 

this  did  not  prevent  a great  esteem  on  the  part  of  the  older  man  for  the 
younger,  nor  make  him  less  in  earnest  in  his  match-making  proposal;  and 
soon  Miss  Elizabeth  J.  Layton,  utterly  unsuspicious  of  the  serious  conse- 
quences that  were  to  follow,  received  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  Lindsey  to 
spend  a few  days  with  her,  to  assist  in  sewing.  The  lady  was  tall, 
graceful  and  finely  formed,  of  pleasing  though  not  strikingly  handsome 
countenance,  and  probably  a year  or  two  older  than  Andrews.  Her  man- 
ners were  quiet  and  grave,  but  she  had  a very  decided  character.  She 
was  a member  of  the  “Christian  church’*  (Campbellite),  and  her  sym- 


Previous  History  of  James  J.  A ndrews,  57 

pathies  were  entirely  with  the  loyal  side  in  the  rising  struggle.  How  much 
similarity  of  political  views  had  to  do  with  the  result,  we  cannot  say;  but 
soon  after  becoming  acquainted  they  were  warm  friends.  Delightful 
evenings  were  spent  in  the  large,  old-fashioned  parlor  of  the  Lindseys; 
and  Andrews  soon  confessed  to  his  employer  that  the  latter  had  judged 
well.  Before  the  courtship  had  ripened  into  an  engagement,  the  storm  of 
war  broke  over  the  country,  and  for  a time  the  lovers  saw  less  of  each 
other.  The  young  man  from  the  North — for  Hancock  Co. , Virginia,  and  the’ 
whole  “ Pan-Handle  lying  between  Ohio  and  Pennsylvania,  fully  shared 
the  sentiments’  of  the  loyal  States — took  no  uncertain  position,  and  with 
his  work  in  the  Kentucky  State-guard,  and  afterwards  in  more  important 
enterprises,  his  time  was  fully  occupied.  But  soon  he  found  an  oppor- 
tunity of  proposing  to  Miss  Layton,  and  was  accepted.  At  the  solicita- 
tion of  his  betrothed,  Andrews  promised  that  when  he  had  finished  one 
more  daring  enterprise  he  would  retire  from  military  service.  The  date 
of  marriage  was  fixed  for  June  17,  1862,  But  a dark  tragedy  was  com- 
pleted before  that  date  ! 

When  the  war  broke  out  in  the  spring  of  1861,  Kentucky  occupied  a 
peculiar  position.  The  majority  of  the  people  had  no  wish  to  secede,  but 
they  wished  as  little  to  engage  heartily  in  war  for  upholding  the  Union. 
The  call  of  the  President  for  troops  was  received  with  scorn,  and  every 
county  was  agitated  by  the  question  of  secession.  For  a time  the  im- 
possible task  was  essayed  of  remaining  neutral.  Troops  were  enrolled  as 
a “ State-guard,’^  not  to  be  called  into  service  unless  the  state  was  invaded, 
when  they  were  to  be  used  against,  the  party  making  the  invasion.  Such 
a position  of  “Armed  Neutrality,’^  was  untenable,  because  refusing  to  aid 
the  Government  in  time  of  need  was  disloyalty,  and  because  the  position 
of  Kentucky  between  the  two  great  sections  made  it  sure  that  sooner  or 
later  the  State  would  be  forced  to  adhere  to  one  side  or  the  other. 

Andrews  spoke  decidedly  in  favor  of  maintaining  the  Union.  He  was 
never  an  abolitionist,  but  wished  to  see  the  old  flag  unsullied,  and  the 
nation  undivided.  He  joined  the  volunteer  organization  of  Fleming  Co., 
and  brought  all  his  powers  of  persuasion  to  bear  in  securing  its  unqualified 
adhesion  to  the  Union  cause. 

The  war  excitement  had  brought  all  business  to  a standstill.  There 
was  no  house  building  or  other  improvements  during  the  spring  and  early 
summer  months  of  1861,  and  consequently  no  demand  for  painting. 
Andrews  was  at  this  time  boarding  at  the  hotel  of  Mr.  J.  B.  Jackson,  who, 
finding  him  out  of  employment,  offered  him  the  temporary  position  of 
clerk.  This  he  held  for  several  months. 

At  length  Andrews  made  a journey  to  Louisville,  and  on  his  return 
announced  that  he  had  been  appointed  deputy  U.  S.  Provost  Marshal,  and 
that  his  jurisdiction  in  that  capacity  would  be  extended  over  Fleming  and 


58 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  adjoining  counties.  No  small  dissatisfaction  was  expressed  at  this 
appointment,  especially  by  those  whose  sympathies  were  wdth,  the  Con- 
federacy. But  Andrews  entered  upon  the  duties  of  the  office  with  much 
apparent  zeal,  purchasing  a copy  of  “ Conkling’s  Practice  to  inform 
himself  in  regard  to  modes  of  procedure  in  U.  S.  Courts.  But  the  same 
evening  of  his  return  from  Louisville,  he  informed  his  friend  Jackson 
that  the  office  was  only  a blind;  that  his  real  business  was  that  of  spy  for 
the  Union  Army.  The  account  he  gave  of  his  entrance  upon  this  busi- 
ness was  that  he  met  a young  lieutenant,  incidentally,  while  on  business 
in  Cincinnati,  who  recommended  it  to  him  as  an  employment  in  which  he 
could  render  great  service  to  his  country;  and  that,  being  at  the  time  out 
of  employment,  he  went  to  Louisville,  offered  his  services,  and  was  im- 
mediately accepted.  Jackson  was  greatly  shocked  at  this  revelation,  not 
because  of  the  nature  of  the  employment,  for  he  was  a strong  Union  man, 
and  in  the  feeling  then  existing  nothing  that  could  be  done  against  the 
opposite  side  was  considered  too  bad;  but  because  of  the  danger  involved. 
He  told  Andrews  that  if  he  did  not  give  it  up,  his  being  detected  and  hung 
was  only  a question  of  time.  Andrews  d'd  not  deny  the  probability,  but 
said  that  he  was  doing  no  good  now  and  that  he  was  determined  “ to  make 
a spoon  or  spoil  a horn.^’  Jackson  understood  him  to  mean  that  he 
would  make  a fortune  in  that  business,  or  lose  everything,  life  included: 
but  it  is  easy  to  give  the  words  a nobler  interpretation.  As  the  remon- 
strances of  Jackson  were  unavailing,  he  told  Andrews  that  he  must  seek 
a new  boarding-place  in  order  not  to  compromise  his  friend.  Andrews 
agreed  to  the  propriety  of  this,  and  at  once  removed  to  Mrs.  Eckles’s  board- 
ing-house. 

Andrews  accompanied  General  Nelson  in  his  expedition  into  the 
mountains  in  Eastern  Kentucky,  and  there  rendered  considerable  service, 
though  not  equal  to  his  expectation,  for  there  was  not  much  real  work  in 
that  place  for  a spy  to  do.  What  he  attem.pted,  however,  aroused  the 
bitter  hostility  of  the  enemy,  and  his  escape  from  them  was,  in  more  than 
one  instance,  very  narrow.  In  reference  to  this  he  told  another  friend, 
Mr.  J.  H.  Cooper,  that  as  the  Confederates  were  so  very  bitter  toward 
him,  he  had  resolved  to  do  them  all  the  injury  in  his  power,  or  lose  his 
life  in  the  effort. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  Andrews  up  to  this  time  can  properly  be  called 
a spy,  notwithstanding  his  use  of  the  word  to  Jackson.  He  seems  rather 
to  have  been  a scout  and  agent  for  secret  communication  with  the  Union 
men  of  Kentucky.  He  was  known  in  his  own  home  and  generally  in  the 
towns  through  which  he  passed  as  a Union  man;  and  while  he  did  not  wear 
uniform,  he  was  not  directly  in  the  military  service,  and  seems  to  have 
been  regarded  simply  as  a Kentucky  citizen  rendering  aid  to  the  Federal 
army.  This  exposed  him,  when  beyond  the  protection  of  the  army,  to 


Previous  History  of  James  J,  Andrews.  59 

the  hostility  of  the  Confederates,  and,  at  the  same  time,  cut  him  off  from 
the  opportunity  of  obtaining  information  regarding  the  intentions  of  the 
enemy.  He  now  resolved  on  a bolder  course,  and  entered  upon  it  in  a 
characteristic  manner.  The  first  step,  as  told  me  by  Mr.  Ashton,  present 
Postmaster  at  Flemingsburg,  who  was  an  eye-witness,  is  very  striking. 

Andrews  had  been  absent  for  several  days — at  Louisville  it  is  presumed 
•—and  on  his  return  was  accosted  in  a friendly  manner  by  Judge  Cord, 
one  of  his  intimate  associates,  and  a leader  among  the  Unionists,  He 
replied  coldly  and  gruffly.  As  the  other  approached,  and  again  spoke 
cordially,  Andrews  said:  “ I don’t  care  to  talk  with  you.’'  “What’s  the 
matter?”  the  other  responded,  still  unwilling  to  accept  the  rebuff. 

Andrews  returned: 

“ I have  been  behind  the  scenes  the  la^  few  days.  I saw  too  much.” 

“ Why,  what  wonderful  things  have  you  seen  ?”  said  the  other,  deeply 
puzzled  by  this  extraordinary  change  of  front. 

“ Why,  I have  seen  how  this  war  is  carried  on,  and  what  it  means.  It’s 
all  a great  speculation.  Everybody  is  trying  to  make  what  he  can  out  of 
it,  and  I will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  it.” 

Mr.  Ashton  also  was  greatly  astonished  at  such  language  from  an 
ardent  Union  man,  who  had  been  virtually  in  the  military  service  of  the 
United  States;  but  he  saw  not  far  away,  and  closely  observing  them,  a 
certain  William  A.  Berry — a bold,  reckless  man,  the  ringleader  of  the 
rebel  element  in  that  entire  district.  Of  course  he  was  greatly  interested 
in  this  sudden  conversion  of  Andrews. 

About  an  hour  afterwards,  Ashton  observed  Berry  and  Andrews  in  close 
and  very  animated  conversation  at  another  part  of  the  street.  Andrews 
was  telling  of  his  cnanged  views,  and  ended  by  asking  Berry  to  get  him 
admitted  to  the  societies  by  which  the  friends  of  the  South  were  bound 
together,  as  it  was  now  his  intention  to  serve  the  South  with  all  his  might. 
At  this  proposition.  Berry,  who  had  seemed  pleased  at  first,  broke  out  in 
a volley  of  oaths,  pouring  upon  Andrews  the  bitterest  abuses  and  curses, 
saying,  “Andrews,  do  you  take  me  for  a baby  or  fool?  You  are  nothing 
more  or  less  than  ” — with  a volley  of  oaths  attached — an  infamous  spy  ! 
and  I will  see  that  your  character  is  made  known  and  will  gladly  help 
hang  you,  as  you  deserve  ! ’’ 

Andrews  quietly  said:  “ Berry,  you  are  excited.  You  will  understand 
me  better  after  awhile  ! ” and  left  him  foaming  with  rage  and  threatening 
condign  vengeance  for  the  treason  which  he  suspected.  Andrews  con- 
tinued to  avoid  the  Union  men  of  Flemingsburg  in  public,  from  this  time, 
but  all  his  advances  were  coldly  received  by  the  opposite  party.  He  had 
been  too  fully  committed,  and  there  was  a short  time  when  he  was  in  no 
small  degree  of  personal  danger. 

At  first  the  leaders  of  the  Union  party  in  Kentucky  had  held  their 


6o 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


partizans  back  from  enlisting  in  the  Federal  army  until  the  posture  of  the 
State  had  been  fully  determined,  for  the  sake  of  their  influence  and  vote 
in  local  matters.  But  soon  the  ardent  young  men  swarmed  into  the  army 
in  such  numbers  as  in  some  places  to  materially  affect  the  preponde- 
rance of  their  cause  at  home.  During  this  period  in  Flemingsburg, 
Andrews  was  more  than  ever  threatened;  and  it  seemed  as  if  all  his  great 
personal  popularity  had  vanished.  But  he  was  then,  as  always,  undis- 
mayed^ and  the  Union  sentiment  soon  became  so  firmly  established  and  so 
aggressive  that  Berry  and  his  chief  friends  found  it  convenient  to  retire 
beyond  the  rebel  lines — the  former  engaging  in  business  in  Nashville. 

In  another  conversation  with  his  confidential  friend,  Jackson, . 
Andrews  declared  his  determination  to  follow  this  example,  and  also  go  to 
Nashville.  Remonstrances  were  tried  in  vain;  Jackson  saying  Why, 
Andrews,  what  will  you  do  about  Berry?  He  wanted  to  hang  you  even 
here,  but  if  he  finds  you  in  Nashville  where  the  rebels  have  it  all  their  own 
way,  he  will  do  it.”  ” I can  manage  that,^’  Andrews  replied,  and  in  due 
time  made  his  way  through  the  lines. 

At  Nashville  he  boldly  went  to  the  largest  hotel  in  the  evening,  and 
registering  as  J.  J.  Andrews  of  Flemingsburg,  Kentucky,  went  to  bed.  Be- 
fore he  was  up  in  the  morning  he  heard  an  impatient  rap  at  his  door,  and  a 
voice  saying,  “ Let  me  in.  I want  to  see  you  ! ” He  opened  the  door, 
and  his  visitor  entering,  announced  himself  as  Judge  Moore  of  Fleming 
County,  and  said: 

‘‘  What  are  you  doing  here?  I always  heard  that  you  were  one  of  the 
head  Yankees  up  there  ! ^’  Andrews  had  seen  Moore,  though  he  had  no 
personal  acquaintance  with  him,  and  replied: 

So  I was  at  first,  but  the  only  difference  between  you  and  me  is  that 
you  saw  into  this  thing  a little  sooner  than  I did,  and  when  I turned  over 
to  the  right  side,  it  got  too  hot  for  me  at  Flemingsburg.  The  Yankees 
have  it  all  their  own  way  there  now. 

Moore  grasped  his  hand,  warmly  congratulated  him  on  having  come 
over,  and  welcomed  him  to  Nashville.  As  soon  as  Andrews  was  dressed 
they  breakfasted  together,  and  Moore  then  took  him  up  to  Military  Head- 
quarters and  introduced  him  to  Beauregard,  Hardee,  and  other  prominent 
officers,  as  “his  friend  Andrews  from  Flemingsburg.”  The  latter  told 
these  officers  that  he  proposed  to  run  articles  needed  in  the  South  through 
the  Union  lines — a very  profitable,  though  a very  hazardous  business,  and 
one  that  would  be  of  great  benefit  to  the  Southern  armies,  which  were  in 
need  of  medical  supplies,  especially  quinine,  and  other  articles  of  small 
bulk  but  great  intrinsic  value.  The  stringent  blockade  had  made  all 
things  not  manfactured  in  the  South  excessively  scarce  and  costly.  They 
encouraged  him,  giving  passes  and  all  necessary  facilities. 

Shortly  after  this,  probably  the  next  day,  Andrews  met  Berry  face  to 


Previous  History  of  James  J,  Andrews,  6i 

face  on  the  street.  The  latter  stopped  as  if  thunderstruck,  and  exclaimed 
with  a great  oath,  “ Well  ! what  are  you  doing  here,  anyway,  Andrews?” 
Andrews  greeted  him  cordially,  told  him  that  he  was  intending  to  hunt  him 
up  as  soon  as  he  got  settled,  and  adding  the  same  expression  that  he  had 
used  with  Judge  Moore,  “ The  only  difference  between  us,  Berry,  is  that 
you  saw  how  things  were  moving  a little  sooner  than  I did.  Just  then 
one  of  the  leading  rebel  officers  in  passing  by,  greeted  Andrews  familiarly, 
and  Berry  could  hold  out  no  longer.  He  said,  “Andrews,  I was  a little 
hard  on  you  when  I thought  you  wanted  to  play  the  spy  on  me,  but  you 
must  overlook  that.  I am  glad  that  you  are  all  right,  even  if  I was  mis- 
taken in  you;  and  now  if  I can  do  you  any  favor  here  in  Nashville  do  not 
hesitate  to  call  on  me.^^  Andrews  promised  to  bear  that  in  mind,  and  as 
Berry  had  engaged  in  the  saddler’s  business,  he  brought  him  through  a 
cargo  of  buckles  and  other  much-needed  articles  on  his  first  blockade- 
running trip.  Ever  after  he  had  no  better  friend  in  all  the  South  than 
Berry. 

Andrews  now  occupied  a position  where  he  could  do  the  Union  cause 
the  most  essential  service.  His  business  as  blockade-runner  gave  him 
free  access  to  all  parts  of  the  territory  held  by  rebel  armies,  and  the  pur- 
chase of  new  supplies  furnished  the  opportunity  and  excuse  for  frequent 
visits  to  the  Federal  lines.  The  amount  of  trading  that  he  thus  did  was 
duly  reported,  along  with  all  other  matters,  to  his  employers. 

Before  the  general  movement  of  the  Union  armies  began  which  resulted 
in  breaking  the  enemy’s  lines,  and  forcing  him  out  of  Kentucky,  Andrews 
visited  Fort  Donelson,  gaining  admission  probably  as  a bearer  of  medical 
supplies,  and  succeeded  in  getting  a complete  account  of  the  Confederate 
forces  there,  together  with  a sketch  of  their  works.  In  order  that  his  in- 
formation might  be  in  time  for  the  movement  which  was  then  imminent, 
he  rode  sixty  miles  in  one  night. 

Andrews  formed  a business  partnership  with  Mr.  Whiteman,  a well- 
known  merchant  of  Nashville,  who  supplied  him.  with  money  needed  for 
his  purchases  and  aided  him  in  the  work  of  distribution.  No  doubt  his  own 
pecuniary  profits  were  considerable,  and  these  he  took  pleasure  in  repre- 
senting to  his  friends  within  the  Confederate  lines  as  the  motive  which 
induced  him  to  run  such  extraordinary  hazards.  It  is  probable,  though  not 
certain,  that  the  Federal  commander  was  well  pleased  to  have  him  thus 
pay  himself,  and  save  the  army  fund  the  heavy  rewards  a daring  spy  might 
have  claimed. 

When  Buell’s  advance  division  under  Mitchel  reached  Green  river, 
opposite  Bowling  Green,  and  began  throwing  shells  across,  Andrews  was 
in  the  town.  It  is  even  said  that  he  rendered  the  Confederate  commander 
a slight  service  by  moving  out  from  the  station  a train  of  cars  which  had 
been  abandoned,  just  as  it  was  ready  to  start,  by  engineer  and  train  hands 


62 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


on' account  of  the  severity  of  the  Federal  fire;  and  thus  won  fervent  ex- 
pression of  gratitude,  and  still  more  absolute  trust.  He  remained  in  the 
captured  town  and  was  thus  able  to  give  precise  information  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  flying  foe.  Then  he  passed  on  ahead  of  the  Union  columns, 
and  arrived  in  Nashville,  in  time  to  witness  the  rebel  evacuation  of  that 
city,  and  to  greet  the  Union  armies  on  their  entrance.' 

At  some  time  near  midwinter  (probably  about  the  first  of  February), 
Andrews  visited  Flemingsburg  for  the  last  time.  The  excitement  attending 
his  leaving  the  place  had  died  away — he  had  returned  once  or  twice  pre^ 
viously — and  he  was  very  kindly  received,  the  confidence  and  good  will 
inspired  by  former  acquaintance  having  overcome  the  irritation  occasioned 
by  his  professed  change  of  views.  But  there  were  only  three  persons -with 
whom  he  held  any  confidential  communications.  One  of  these  was  his 
friend  Jackson,  whom  he  trusted  utterly,  and  whose  warnings  and  entreaties 
to  leave  a business  so  fraught  with  danger,  he  answered  by  telling  him 
how  fully  he  was  trusted  by  the  rebel  authorities,  and — what  Jackson 
could  fully  appreciate — what  an  excellent  chance  he  now  had  to  make 
money  ! He  assured  his  friend,  however,  that  he  would  not  continue  in 
the  same  line  of  employment  much  longer. 

Another  man  he  trusted  was  Mr.  J.  H.  Moore,  then  quite  young.  He 
did  not  talk  to  him  of  money,  as  his  motive  in  his  hazardous  career,  but 
of  the  services  he  was  rendering  the  country,  and  so  enkindled  his  im^ 
•agination,  that  the  young  man  wished  to  accompany  him,  and  enter  upon 
the  same  business.  As  he  was  intelligent  and  cool-headed,  Andrews  did 
not  at  first  try  to  hinder  him,  though  he  told  him  that  it  was  a dreadful 
life,  far  more  dangerous  than  that  of  any  soldier.  Andrews  consented 
very  readily  to  accompany  him  at  least  as  far  as  Cincinnati,  and  the  two 
left  Flemingsburg  in  company.  On  the  trip  down  the  river  Andrews  was 
very  sociable,  and  made  no  objections  to  Moore’s  expressed  intention  of 
going  on  with  him  to  Nashville,  so  that  the  latter  considered  himself  as 
fully  embarked  on  the  career  of  a spy.  But  when  they  were  shown  to 
their  room  at  Cincinnati  at  night,  and  were  alone,  Andrews  laid  his  hand 
on  him  and  said, 

“ Young  man,  you  don’t  know  what  you  have  undertaken.  I like  your 
spirit,  but  you  are  ten  years  too  young.  I am  going  to  put  the  whole 
matter  before  you,  and  then  if  you  go  on,  it  will  be  on  your  own  re- 
sponsibility.^’ 

Andrews  then  drew  a picture  so  frightful  that  young  Moore  felt  all  his 
ardor  ebbing  away.  The  sober  tiiought  of  the  morning  completed  the 
work  that  Andrew’s  evening  words  had  begun,  and  Moore  informed  the 
latter,  apparently  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that  his  mind  was  made  up  to 
return  home  and  enter  the  army  in  the  common  way.  Then  Andrews 


* ‘‘Andrews  was  within  the  Confederate  lines  when  I adyanced  upon  Nashville.  He 
reported  to  me  there.” — From  a letter  bv  Cen.  D.  C.  Buell  to  the  Author,  Jan.  ii,  1887. 


Previous  History  of  James  /.  Andrews,  63 

made  a simple  request  of  him,  which  throws  no  small  light  on  the  charac- 
ter of  this  strange  man. 

Moore, said  he,  “ Mrs.  Bright  asked  me  to  send  her  back  a dollar’s 
worth  of  sugar  from  Maysville  and  gave  me  the  money  to  pay  for  it;  but 
I had  so  many  things  on  my  mind  that  I forgot  all  about  it,  and  have  her 
money  3^et.  Will  you  get  the  sugar  and  take  home  with  you  for  her?^’ 
Moore  was  accustomed  to  say  long  after  this  that  Andrews  actually  seemed 
to  think  more  of  that  old  lady’s  disappointment  than  of  all  the  dangers  he 
was  entering  upon  ! 

Andrews  had  not  failed  to  visit  Miss  Layton  during  this  final  stay  in 
Flemingsburg.  He  tried  to  make  her  think  that  there  was  no  special  risk 
involved  in  his  present  employment;  but  she  was  not  so  easily  deceived. 
Intensely  patriotic,  and  having  her  full  share  of  the  war  spirit,  she  was  glad 
that  he  was  serving  the  Union  cause;  but  there  was  so  much  of  the  hidden 
and  mysterious  element  of  danger  in  his  present  employment  that  she 
pleaded  with  him  to  give  it  up.  He  yielded  so  far  as  to  promise  that  one 
more  trip  should  be  his  last,  a trip  from  which  he  was  to  return  a consider- 
able time  before  their  wedding-day.  The  reader  may  imagine  the  tender- 
ness and  gloom  of  the  parting  between  the  lovers.  Even  the  prospect  of 
marriage  four  months  distant  could  hardly  have  much  cheer  for  the  wait- 
ing woman,  who  understood  but  too  well  the  dangers  to  which  her  hero 
was  exposed. 

At  Louisville,  Andrews  purchased  a lady’s  trunk,  large  and  elegant, 
and  left  it  in  charge  of  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  at  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  lodge.  From  his  last,  and  most  pathetic  reference  to  this  trunk, 
it  is  believed  that  he  meant  to  bear  the  wedding-presents  to  Miss  Layton 
in  it.  He  then  completed  his  cargo  of  articles  for  sale  in  the  South  and 
returned  to  Nashville. 

The  capture  of  that  city  had  made  no  change  in  the  lucrative  traffic 
carried  on  across  the  hostile  lines  by  Andrews,  except  that  he  now  took 
Nashville  as  a starting-point,  and  carried  goods  to  Whiteman  who  had  re- 
moved to  Chattanooga,  and  to  other  persons  as  far  south  as  Atlanta.  He 
was  several  times  seen  in  the  latter  city,  and  still  continued  to  inspire  the 
Confederate  officers  with  unbounded  confidence.  On  the  trip  preceding 
the  organization  of  the  first  railroad  raid  he  was  said  * to  have  brought  a 
son  of  the  rebel  Gen.  Cheatham  through  the  lines  to  leave  in  the  care  of 
some  friends  at  Nashville  for  education.  At  the  very  time  of  which  I am 
now  writing,  he  rode  a horse  borrowed  from  Mr.  Whiteman,  and  had  ako 
received  10,000  dollars  for  the  purchase  of  quinine  and  other  articles  that 
he  was  to  bring  through  to  Chattanooga.  This  employment  did  not,  how- 
ever, make  him  the  less  watchful  of  the  interest  of  his  real  employers — the 
Federal  Generals. 


* By  Captain  Sarralt, Steubenville,  OhlCo 


CHAPTER  VI. 


FIRST  LESSONS  IN  DISGUISE  AND  DUPLICITY. 

NO  start  on  a long  journey  could  be  conceived  more  discouraging 
than  ours.  The  night  was  pitchy  dark  and  the  rain  poured  down. 
The  Tennessee  mud,  which  we  had  pretty  fully  tested  on  our  army 
marches,  was  now  almost  unfathomable.  While  we  clung  to  the  railroad 
this  difficulty  was  avoided,  but  the  danger  of  falling  was  still  greater,  and 
the  blinding  flashes  of  lightning  gave  a very  uncertain  illumination  for 
avoiding  cattle  guards,  and  other  hindrances.  We  hoped  to  pass 
Wartrace,  our  first  stage,  which  was  beyond  the  Federal  pickets,  before 
daylight.  A walk  of  a dozen  miles  on  the  first  night,  would  put  us  well 
on  our  way,  and  was  possible  by  clinging  to  the  railroad,  though  exceed- 
ingly difficult. 

. But  an  hour  or  two  of  toilsome  trudging  added  to  the  fatigues  of  the  day 
and  the  intense  nervous  strain  we  had  endured  ever  since  our  detail,  ren- 
dered the  thought  of  rest  almost  irresistibly  attractive.  We  unanimously 
resolved  to  find  a house  and  make  up  for  the  delay  by  an  early  start  and 
a hard  day’s  work  on  the  morrow. 

But  we  did  not  wish  to  lie  down  in  the  rain,  or  under  the  shelter  of  a 
tree.  There  were  none  of  the  rude  conveniences  at  hand  which  were 
never  quite  wanting  in  camps — no  tents,  water-proof  blankets,  or  means 
of  making  a fire.  We  preferred  to  find  a house,  or  at  least  a barn.  This 
seemed  very  simple,  but  in  practice  was  not  so  easy.  The  country  was 
thinly  peopled;  and  a mist  which  began  to  creep  along  the  ground  pre- 
vented us  from  seeing  a rod  before  us.  We  continued  on  the  railroad 
until  we  felt  almost  sure  that  there  was  no  house  that  way  before  reach- 
ing Wartrace  at  the  junction;  and  we  did  not  v\ish  to  find  lodging  in  the 
village.  So  we  turned  out  on  the  first  road  that  crossed  the  railway,  and 
watched  more  narrowly  than  ever  for  the  shelter  so  much  desired. 

For  a time  we  had  no  better  success  than  before.  But  as  we  plodded 
along  in  the  mud,  we  suddenly  heard  the  barking  of  a dog,  which  ceased 
as  suddenly  as  it  began.  We  huddled  together  and  disputed  as  to  which 
side  of  the  road  it  Vv^as  on;  then  halloed  to  try  to  provoke  more  barking, 
but  in  vain.  No  question  could  be  more  puzzling  than  the  simple  one  of 
finding  the  direction  of  a house  indicated  by  the  ear  alonCc  But  we  heard 


First  Lessons  in  Disguise  and  Dtiplicity, 


65 


no  further  sound,  and  taking  one  side  of  the  road  at  random,  we  formed 
a line  with  long  intervals,  and  passing  frequent  signals  to  keep  from  being 
separated,  we  moved  forward  and  swept  around  in  circles  through  the 
darkness  and  rain. 

A barn  was  our  first  discovery.  A little  earlier  we  would  have  been 
willing  to  accept  this;  but  now  we  were  so  wet  and  chilly,  and  were  so 
anxious  to  be  sure  of  an  early  breakfast^  that  we  resolved  to  look  further 
for  the  house.  Leaving  one  at  the  barn  to  prevent  losing  it — for  even 
the  lightning  could  scarcely  penetrate  the  fog — we  swept  around  in  ever- 
widening  circles  till  the  house  was  reached,  and  the  dog  then  was  roused 
and  made  noise  enough.  Even  with  this  aid  it  took  some  time  to  waken 
the  old  farmer,  who  on  seeing  us  was  greatly  alarmed,  and  looked  as  if  he 
would  refuse  us  entrance  if  he  dared.  But  the  request  of  four  strong  men, 
in  such  a storm  and  at  such  an  hour,  had  a good  deal  of  persuasive  force. 

The  house,  as  we  saw  in  the  morning,  was  a rude  log  structure,  con- 
sisting of  two  pens  built  twelve  or  fifteen  feet  apart,  and  connected  by  a 
roof,  thus  making  an  open  porch  between  them — a style  of  house  very 
common  in  the  South  at  that  time.  When  admitted,  the  smouldering 
fire  in  the  large  open  fire-place  was  raked  into  activity,  and  fresh  wood 
was  thrown  on,  so  that  as  we  surrounded  the  hearth,  there  was  soon 
abundant  light  without  the  use  of  candle  or  lamp,  and  a most  grateful 
heat.  Then  our  host,  who  insisted  on  providing  us  something  to  eat, 
though  we  told  him  that  we  needed  nothing  before  morning — that  all  we 
now  cared  for  was  to  get  dried  and  go  to  bed, — questioned  us  as  to  who  we 
were,  and  our  motive  in  travelling  so  late  in  such  a dreadful  night. 

It  was  a very  good  opportunity  to  commence  our  drill  in  deception. 
If  detected  no  special  harm  could  follow,  for  we  were  stronger  than  our 
questioner,  and  being  still  near  the  Union  pickets,  he  could  not  get  help 
against  us;  while  if  we  succeeded,  we  would  be  more  confident  when  our 
life  was  at  stake.  We  said  we  were  Kentuckians  from  Fleming  Co.,  and 
that  we  were  travelling  in  the  night  to  evade  the  Union  pickets,  and  would 
not  have  stopped  till  we  were  in  safety,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  rain. 
He  inquired  our  reason  for  leaving  home  in  these  troubled  times  and 
coming  South.  We  replied  that  we  were  disgusted  with  the  tyranny  of  the 
Lincoln  Government,  and  meanj:  to  fight  in  the  Southern  army. 

His  reply  gave  us  great  pleasure,  which,  however,  we  did  not  express: 

‘Wou  might  as  well  save  your  trouble,  for  the  whole  South  will  soon 
be  as  much  under  Lincoln  as  Kentucky  is. ' 

This  avowal  of  Union  sentiment  was  the  more  grateful,  as  we,  like 
most  of  the  Northern  soldiers,  doubted  the  sincerity  of  Union  people  in 
the  South.  He  advised  us  to  go  back  home  and  try  to  content  ourselves 
there,  for  our  errand  was  bootless,  and  that  the  rebellion  would  soon  be 
put  down  as  it  deserved  to  be. 

5 


66 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


We  assured  him  that  we  would  never  submit;  that  we  would  die  first. 
He  laughed  and  said  it  was  easy  to  talk^  but  that  time  would  show. 

While  we  partook  of  a plain  but  good  meal,  and  still  more,  when  we 
again  gathered  for  a short  time  around  the  fire  preparatory  to  retiring, 
we  continued  to  argue  the  great  questions  of  the  day.  It  was  a novel 
experience,  trying  to  maintain  that  the  rebels  were  right  in  seceding  and 
our  own  people  all  wrong;  but  we  did  the  best  we  could.  I noticed  that 
Cieorge  D.  Wilson,  who  spoke  with  great  ease  and  force,  seemed  dissat- 
isfied whenever  Campbell  or  Shadrack  took  part  in  the  conversation,  as 
they  did  several  times,  expressing  very  radical  Southern  views  with  great 
emphasis  of  language;  and  that  he  would  repeatedly  interrupt  them  in  the 
midst  of  their  statements,  and  called  on  me  for  something  in  another 
direction.  When  our  host  and  his  wife,  who  also  had  been  aroused  to 
minister  to  us,  had  retired,  Shadrack  asked  him  the  reason  of  this,  which 
had  been  quite  marked.  Wilson  replied  that  they  were  overdoing  their' 
parts, — as  he  expressed  it,  making  fools  of  themselves  by  being  better 
rebels  than  the  rebels  themselves;'’  then  he  complimented  me  for  being 
always  moderate  in  statement  and  telling  the  necessary  stories  in  such  a 
way  that  they  were  sure  to  be  believed.  The  truth  was  that  the  whole 
business  of  such  false  representations  was  distasteful,  and  I did  just  as 
little  of  it  as  would  suffice  to  make  the  stories  plausible.  I supposed  the 
very  frank  words  of  Wilson  would  be  resented,  and  tried  to  think  how 
best  the  disagreement  could  be  smoothed  down;  but  to  my  surprise,  both 
Campbell  and  Shadrack  admitted  the  justice  of  the  criticism,  and  declared 
that  they  would  hereafter,  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  limit  themselves 
to  endorsing  all  that  Wilson  and  I should  say.  This  they  faithfully  did 
through  the  whole  of  their  journey,  always  waiting  for  one  of  us  to  take 
the  lead  in  conversation. 

As  we  sit  around  the  fire  slowly  undressing  for  bed,  and  enjoying  the 
languor  caused  by  the  supper  and  the  grateful  heat,  it  may  be  a good  time 
to  sketch  these  companions  with  whom  I was  so  long  and  intimately  asso- 
ciated. There  is  a deep  sorrow  in  the  task,  for  not  one  of  them  emerged 
from  the  gloom  and  darkness  into  which  we  were  entering. 

George  D.  Wilson  was  the  most  remarkable  man  of  all  who  enlisted 
with  Andrews.  He  was  not  highly  educated,  and  had  spent  many  years 
as  an  itinerant  journeyman  shoemaker.  He  was  32 — nearly  ten  years 
older  than  the  others,  which  increased  his  ascendancy  over  us.  He  had 
travelled  and  observed  much  and  forgotten  nothing.  In  vigor  and  force 
of  language  I never  knew  a man  who  surpassed  him.  He  delighted  in 
argument  on  any  topic — social,  political,  or  religious — and  was  an  adver- 
sary not  to  be  despised.  In  the  use  of  scathing  and  bitter  language,  in 
hard,  positive,  unyielding  dogmatism,  in  the  power  to  bury  an  opponent 
under  a flood  of  exhaustless  abuse,  he  excelled.  In  coolness  and  brav- 


First  Lessons  in  Disguise  ayid  Duplieity,  67 

ery,  in  natural  s^hrewdness  and  quickness  of  intellect,  he  was  fully  equal 
to  Andrews;  no  danger  could  frighten  him.  His  resources  always  rose 
with  the  demand,  and  on  one  me- 
m.orable  occasion  he  was  carried 
to  the  very  summit  of  moral  hero- 
ism,and  in  the  whole  war  no  death 
was  more  sublime  than  his.  Our 
friendship,  which  began  on  this 
first  nigiiv,  increased  to  the  end, 
though  we  often  engaged  in 
heated  discussion. 

Wilson  was  tall  and  spare, 
with  high  cheek-bones,  over- 
hanging brows,  sharp  gray  eyes, 
thin  brownish  hair,  and  long 
thin  whiskers.  The  accompany^ 
ing  photograph  was  taken  ten 
years  earlier. 

Perry  G.  Shadrack  was  about 
twentyTwo,  and  came  from 
Pennsylvania  to  Knoxville,  Ohio, 

, , , „ . George  D.  Wilson.  From  a photograph  ten  years 

when  the  2nd  Ohio  Regiment  before  the  war. 

was  being  reorganized  for  the  three  years'  service.  He  was  not  large, 
but  plump  and  solidly  built,  merry  and  reckless,  with  an  inexhaustible 
store  of  good  nature.  His  temper  was  quick,  but  he  was  very  forgiving 

and  ready  to  sacrifice  anything 
for  a friend.  His  wit  was  fre- 
quently the  life  of  the  whole 
party,  and  his  merry  blue  eye 
sparkled  with  mischief  on  the 
slightest  provocation. 

As  far  as  Wilson  excelled  all 
the  other  members  of  the  party 
in  intellectual  strength  and 
acuteness,  so  did  William  Camp- 
bell in  the  more  tangible  qual- 
ity of  physical  strength.  His 
muscular  feats  were  often  mar- 
vellous. He  weighed  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  pounds,  was 
of  fine  build,  and  with  his  great 
weight  was  as  agile  as  a cir- 
WiLLiAM  Campbell.  From  a war-time  photograph  CHS  actor.  Hanger  seemcd  to 


68 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


have  an  innate  attraction  to  him,  and  the  thought  of  death  but  little 
terror.  He  was  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  be  quarrelsome,  and 
often  reproved  wranglers.  But  it  was  said  that  the  use  of  stimulants, 
which  he  did  not  touch  so  far  as  I know  on  this  expedition,  very  consider- 
ably changed  his  nature.  He  was  a native  of  Salineville,  Ohio,  and  had 
led  an  irregular  life,  being  in  Louisville  when  the  Union  army  passed 
through.  He  had  not  formally  enlisted  as  a soldier,  but  was  on  a. visit 
to  Shadrack  when  the  latter  was  selected  for  the  Andrews  expedition,  and 
had  requested  permission  to  go  along.  Being  fully  trusted,  and  well 
qualified  for  dangerous  work,  his  request  was  readily  granted.  As  was 
natural,  he  and  Shadrack  were  inseparable  friends. 

At  length  our  luxurious  chat  was  over  and  we  lay  down  for  rest,  two 
in  a bed.  I think  Wilson  slept  at  once,  but  I lay  awake  for  some  time, 
watching  the  fitful  light  of  the  declining  fire  as  it  flickered  over  the  bare 
rafters  and  rough  side  logs  of  the  room.  I thought  of  many  things  which 
this  eventful  day  had  brought  forth;  and  there  was  one  line  of  thought 
which  it  may  be  as  well  to  record  with  some  care — more  than  I gave  it 
then, — for  it  is  sure  to  arise  in  the  mind  of  many  readers. 

How  could  we  reconcile  to  our  consciences  the  falsehood  involved  in 
the  very  nature  of  our  expedition  ? This  question  becomes  more  urgent 
as  the  years  go  by,  and  the  stormy  passions  of  the  war  are  quieted;  and 
especially  as  good  feeling  between  the  sections,  and  charity  for  former 
opponents,  is  restored.  No  such  question  was  asked  during  the  war;  but 
it  has  been  a thousand  times  since.  It  does  not  justify  our  leader  or  our- 
selves to  say  that  we  were  placed  in  such  a position  that  the  preservation 
of  life  required  us  to  deceive  the  enemy;  for  the  real  question  is  as  to  the 
moral  right  of  putting  ourselves  in  that  position.  The  historian  is  not 
bound  to  justify  what  he  records  even  of  his  own  actions.  But  it  is  re- 
quired that  these  actions  should  be  fairly  weighed. 

Let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  we  did  not  look  on  ourselves  as  upon 
the  same  plane  with  the  enemy.  We  were  not  fighting  against  a nation 
•irmed  with  all  the  rights  of  independence.  In  our  view  our  opponents 
were  nothing  but  rebels,  and  we  regarded  rebellion  itself  as  a crime  which 
forfeited  all  rights  and  was  justly  punishable  with  death.  We  did  not 
think  that  men  who  had  associated  together  against  our  government  had 
acquired  any  more  rights  by  that  association  than  a band  of  pirates  or 
murderers.  To  kill  them  was  a public  duty — the  very  purpose  for  which 
we  had  left  our  homes.  To  defeat  them  in  their  criminal  design  by  false- 
hood, seemed  just  like  throwing  a murderer  off  the  track  of  his  intended 
victim  by  strategy.  In  other  words,  v/e  looked  upon  the  rebels  as  out  of 
the  pale  of  all  law  by  their  own  act.  Men  who  would  have  shrunk  with 
horror  from  the  thought  of  deceiving  any  one  in  private  life,  found 
nothing  but  pleasure  in  outwitting  the  destroyers  of  the  nation.  In 


First  Lessons  in  Disguise  and  Duplicity, 


69 


Flemingsburg^  among  the  old  neighbors  of  Andrews,  no  expression  was 
more  common  than,  ‘‘  He  was  a true  man.  You  could  depend  upon  every 
word  he  saidF  But  to  deceive  the  enemy  was  accounted  a virtue,  not  a 
crime. 

The  manner  in  which  the  enemy  carried  on  the  war  intensified  this 
feeling.  Their  soldiers  were  imperfectly  uniformed  at  best.  They  had 
encouraged  guerilla  warfare,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  Federal 
uniform  had  been  used  to  get  within  our  own  lines  and  work  injury,  as 
in  the  case  of  the  capture  of  Gallatin  by  Morgan  but  a few  weeks  before 
this  date/  Their  citizens  were  often  found  living  in  apparent  innocence 
within  our  lines,  and  yet  sending  complete  information  of  all  Union  move- 
ments southward,  and  taking  the  oath  of  allegiance  only  to  break  it — often 
seizing  their  rifles  and  acting  as  soldiers  against  us  without  any  organiza- 
tion. It  would  have  been  as  easy  to  carry  on  the  war,  while  keeping  the 
law  of  perfect  truth,  as  to  observe  the  law  of  love,  which  forbids  all  injury  ! 
Our  party,  in  their  disguise,  went  forth  to  play  at  the  enemy’s  own  game, 
knowing  full  well  its  hazardous  character,  but  feeling  that  the  enemy 
would  have  no  reason  to  complain. 

But  there  is  a broader  aspect  of  the  question.  Every  war  between 
the  most  civilized  of  powers  must  involve  an  element  of  deceit  and  fraud 
almost  as  prominent  as  that  of  violence  and  destruction.  The  moral  law 
and  the  golden  rule  are  set  aside  in  both  instances;  and  therefore  some 
Christian  denominations  consistently  take  the  ground  that  war  can  never 
be  lawful.  With  them  we  have  no  controversy,  for  the  subject  is  too 
large.  Writing  false  dispatches,  making  movements  which  have  no  purpose 
but  to  deceive,  using  flags  of  truce  for  pretense  or  delay,  sending  out 
trusted  soldiers  as  deserters  to  carry  false  intelligence,  and  employing 
every  other  possible  ruse  to  mislead  an  adversary — all  these  things  will  be 
done  by  the  most  honorable  general,  and  if  they  succeed  are  considered 
worthy  of  especial  commendation  ! A general  will  urge  a soldier  by  large 
rewards  to  become  a spy,  and  put  lies  in  his  mouth.  On  the  well -accepted 
principle,  that  “ the  receiver  is  as  bad  as  the  thief,”  the  general  cannot  be 
better  than  the  spy  ! If  the  laws  of  war  remove  all  odium  and  danger 
from  the  general  to  fix  it  upon  the  spy,  it  should  be  remembered  that  the 
generals  have  made  the  laws  of  war,  and  naturally  favor  themselves; 
this,  however,  cannot  change  the  abstract  right  in  the  case. 

The  further  consideration  should  be  kept  in  view  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  two  or  three,  we  were  very  young,  not  members  of  any  church, 
and  that  we  held  ourselves  amenable  only  to  the  common  laws  of  army 
morality,  which,  so  far  as  the  enemy  was  concerned,  were  not  very  strin- 
gent— the  common  sentiment  being  that  a rebel  had  no  right  to  anything 
— not  even  to  the  truth  ? Our  commanders,  from  General  Buell  down, 


^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol  X.,  Part  i.,  page  31. 


70 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


had  sanctioned  our  expedition,  knowing  all  that  it  implied,  and  the  con- 
venient army  morality  which  gives  the  blame  as  well  as  the  praise  to  the 
officers  was  as  applicable  on  this  as  on  any  other  occasion.  We  had  been 
directed  to  put  off  our  uniform,  and  to  make  representations'  correspond- 
ing to  our  changed  costume.  We  were  also  authorized  to  enlist  in  the 
rebel  army — a measure  which  would  have  required  the  taking  of  an  oath 
of  allegiance  to  the  Southern  Confederacy — a most  distasteful  form  of 
deceit,  and  one  that  would  fall  short  of  perjury  only  because  no  rebel 
could  legally  administer  an  oath  to  United  States  soldiers  or  citizens.  We 
felt  that  we  were  serving  our  country  in  the  way  that  the  country  itself  had 
pointed  out,  and  that  if  there  was  any  wrong,  the  country,  which  was  mak- 
ing the  war,  was  responsible.  We  were  absolutely  true  to  each  other,  and 
to  our  rightful  allegiance  in  the  most  trying  emergencies,  but  we  drew  a 
decisive  line  in  our  dealings  with  the  enemy — telling  them  the  truth  when 
there  was  no  motive  to  do  otherwise  ! Yet  I never  liked  to  deceive  them, 
though  constant  use  made  it  less  grating,  after  a time;  and  there  even 
came  to  be  a certain  pride  of  dexterity  in  doing  it  well,  which  Wilson  stimu- 
lated to  the  utmost  by  putting  me  forward  on  all  possible  occasions  as 
spokesman,  first  of  our  own  little  squad,  and  afterward,  when  we  were 
united,  of  the  whole  party.  On  such  occasions  his  praise  for  being  able 
to  say  plausibly  and  exactly  what  we  had  agreed  upon  beforehand  was  not 
altogether  unrelished. 

We  passed  the  night  in  quiet  and  safety.  ‘Our  host  had  been  pledged 
by  us  not  to  inform  the  Federal  pickets  of  our  presence — though  it  would 
have  been  an  enjoyable  practical  joke  under  other  circumstances  to  have 
let  him  bring  in  a squad  and  have  us  arrested — and  after  breakfast  we 
went  on  our  way.  For  a time  the  sky  was  clear  but  it  soon  clouded,  and 
we  were  compelled  to  suffer  the  inevitable  drenching  which  befell  us  every 
day  on  this  weary  journey.  We  reached  Wartrace  in  the  midst  of  a pelt- 
ing storm.  At  first  we  intended  to  go  around  the  town,  as  it  was  the  last 
station  on  the  Union  picket  line.  But  it  was  raining  so  hard  that  we 
thought  we  might  manage  to  slip  along  the  street  unobserved.  On  mak- 
ing the  attempt,  however,  we  found  that  MitchePs  soldiers  were  too  vig- 
ilant for  that,  and  we  were  promptly  halted.  For  a time  we  tried  to  per- 
sonate the  innocent  Southern  citizen,  but  were  compelled  to  wait  under  a 
sheltering  porch  until  a messenger  had  ridden  to  brigade  headquarters  and 
brought  an  order  for  our  release. 

Then  we  travelled  onward,  wading  swollen  creeks  and  plodding  through 
the  mud  as  fast  as  we  could  We  were  crossing  what  might  be  called  the 
neutral  zone  between  our  lines  and  those  of  the  enemy.  The  next  stage 
ahead  was  the  town  of  Manchester,  at  which  point  we  were  really  to  enter 
the  enemy’s  country.  Early  in  the  afternoon  we  reached  Duck  River 
opposite  the  town,  and  as  the  river  was  at  flood  height,  we  crossed  by  a 


First  Lessons  in  Disguise  and  Duplicity.  71 

novel  kind  of  ferry — being  taken  up  one  at  a time  by  a horseman,  and 
thus  carried  through  the  torrent. 

We  found  the  population  of  the  town  in  a wild  ferment.  Some  of  the 
citizens  had  reported  that  an  approaching  band  of  Yankee  cavalry  were 
even  now  visible  from  the  public  square.  We  repaired  thither  with  all 
speed  to  witness  the  novel  spectacle  of  the  entrance  of  National  troops  into 
a hostile  town  from  the  Southern  point  of  view.  Mingled  were  the  emo- 
tions expressed,  fear  and  hatred  being  the  most  prominent,  but  some 
people  looked  not  unpleased.  Soon  the  terrible  band  loomed  up  over  the 
hill  v/hich  bounded  the  view,  when  lo  ! the  dreaded  enemies  were  seen  to 
be  only  a party  of  negroes  who  had  been  working  in  the  coal-mines  a little 
further  up  the  mountains.  Some  of  Mitchel’s  cavalry  had  made  a raid 
eastward  to  divert  attention  from  their  real  movement  southward,  and  hav- 
ing destroyed  the  works,  these  contrabands  were  run  off  here  for  safe 
keeping.  The  feeling  of  the  town's  people  may  be  better  imagined  than 
described  as  they  dispersed,  with  curses  on  the  whole  African  race. 

Here  we  saw  several  others  of  our  own  party.  There  was  no  personal 
acquaintance  between  us  previous  to  being  detailed — I could  not  have  given 
the  name  of  a single  member  of  the  whole  band  aside  from  our  cluster^ 
and  the  one  occasion  when  we  had  been  together  the  previous  evening 
had  not  been  favorable  for  intimacy; — but  there  was  something  in  the 
manner  of  each  by  which  it  was  easy  to  recognize  comrades.  Reddick 
and  Wollam  had  lodged  for  the  night  with  a Confederate  family  who  were 
afraid  at  first  to  harbor  them,  for  fear  of  Yankee  vengeance  should  they 
be  discovered;  but  being  persuaded  to  take  the  risk,  they  not  only  gave 
supper  and  breakfast,  but  furnished  a guide  who  piloted  them  by  a lonely 
path  over  fields  and  woods,  around  both  Union  and  Rebel  pickets,  so  that 
they  escaped  all  molestation,  crossed  swollen  creeks  on  fallen  logs,  and 
Duck  river  in  a wagon,  and  finally  reached  Manchester  in  advance  of  all 
the  others.  We  greeted  several  of  our  squads  in  Manchester,  but  did 
not  long  remain  in  company.  Andrews  also  passed  on  horseback,  but  as 
all  was  well,  we  did  not  speak  to  him. 

As  we  pressed  on  in  the  dreary  afternoon  we  realized  fully  that  we  were 
in  the  enemy’s  country.  We  obtained  the  names  of  the  most  prominent 
Secessionists  along  the  route,  and  from  this  time  had  nothing  more  to  do 
with  Unionists.  It  is  difficult  for  the  reader  of  to-day,  when  our  country 
is  truly  united,  to  form  any  idea  of  the  mysterious  horror  which  clung 
about  the  South  at  the  period  of  the  opening  of  the  war.  Slavery  had 
been  separating  the  two  sections  more  and  more  for  a generation  preced- 
ing that  event.  Terrible  tales  of  outrage  upon  suspected  abolitionists 
were  freely  told.  If  a Northern  man  travelled  in  the  South,  he  was  obliged 
to  carefully  conceal  his  sentiments  on  the  subject  of  slavery  or  run  the 
risk  of  being  dragged  from  his  bed  at  night  and  whipped,  tarred  and 


72 


^Daring  and  Suffering, 


feathered,  or  even  hung.  These  tales  may  have  been  exaggerated,  but 
they  were  believed,  and  had  some  foundation.  Three  years  before  I had 
been  turned  back  from  an  intended  trip  as  a teacher  to  Kentucky,  by  the 
fear  of  violence.  Now  the  smothered  flame  had  broken  out' openly;  the 
sword  had  been  unsheathed;  and  we  were  in  the  midst  of  deadly  foes  with 
no  protection  but  the  flimsy  veil  of  falsehood.  It  is  not  easy  to  describe 
the  half  fascinating,  half  terrible  sense  of  danger  with  which  we  passed 
from  house  to  house  and  from  village  to  village  where  we  would  have  been 
torn  to  pieces  in  a moment  if  our  true  character  had  been  suspected.  But 
being  entertained  by  those  whose  Confederate  loyalty  was  above  suspicion, 
and  always  inquiring  for  others  of  a similar  character,  it  was  taken  for 
granted  that  we  were  like  them,  and  few  questions  asked.  We  paid  our 
way  wherever  money  would  be  accepted;  more  frequently  it  was  refused; 
the  people  declaring,  “ It  is  a privilege  to  do  something  for  the  gallant 
Kentuckians  on  their  way  to  fight  for  the  liberty  of  the  South.** 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  CONFEDERACY  REACHED. 

There  are  but  few  incidents  of  this  downward  journey  upon  which 
it  is  worth  while  to  linger.  That  night  we  were  still  some  miles 
from  Hillsboro,  having  been  greatly  impeded  by  the  muddy  roads 
and  swollen  streams. 

The  gentleman  with  whom  we  lodged  this  (Tuesday)  evening  was  a 
slave-hunter,  and  hunted  negroes  with  bloodhounds  for  money,  as  we 
heard  for  the  first  time  from  the  lips  of  one  who  practised  it.  Our  host  said 
he  had  seen  some  one  dodging  around  the  back  of  his  plantation  just  as 
it  was  getting  dark,  and  that  very  early  in  the  morning  he  would  take  his 
hounds  and  hunt  him  up;  if  it  proved  to  be  a negro  he  would  get  the  re- 
ward always  allowed  for  a fugitive  sla\^e.  He  said  that  he  had  caught  a 
great  number  in  that  way,  and  regarded  them  as  perfectly  fair  game,  and 
the  business  as  highly  profitable.  The  idea  that  there  was  anything  cruel 
or  dishonorable  about  it  had  not  occurred  to  him. 

We  had  to  agree  with  all  he  said;  but  I well  remember  that  the  idea  of 
hunting  human  beings  with  bloodhounds  for  profit  caused  a thrill  of  hor- 
ror and  detestation.  Not  long  after  we  found  that  these  hounds  were 
equally  serviceable  for  other  human  game  ! 

The  next  morning  we  continued  our  journey,  and  after  walking  about 
an  hour,  found  a man  who  agreed  for  an  exorbitant  price,  and  for  the 
good  of  the  Confederacy,  to  give  us  a ride  in  his  wagon  for  several  miles. 
We  were  anxious  to  avail  ourselves  of  every  help,  for  it  was  now  Wednes- 
day, and  the  very  next  day  we  ought  to  reach  Marietta.  It  was  clear  that 
we  had  no  time  to  lose.  But  this  conveyance  was  a great  aid,  and  we 
trotted  briskly  along,  becoming  very  lively.  Several  others  whom  we  over- 
took were  invited  to  share  our  good  fortune,  and  jokes  and  laughter  rang 
out  in  merry  wise.  A listener  could  scarcely  have  believed  that  we  were 
1 leaving  our  homes  as  exiles  to  engage  in  war,  as  we  claimed;  still  less  that 
we  had  actually  entered  upon  an  enterprise  as  desperate  as  any  forlorn 
hope  that  ever  mounted  a breach. 

Soon  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Cumberland  mountains,  and  to  me  no 
scenery  ever  appeared  more  beautiful.  For  a short  time  the  rain  had 
ceased  to  fall  and  the  air  was  clear.  The  mountains  rose  before  us  as 


74 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


a mighty  rampart  of  freshest  green,  and  around  their  tops,  just  high 
enough  to  veil  their  loftiest  summits,  clung  a soft  shadowy  mist,  which, 
gradually  descending  lower,  shrouded  one  after  another  of  the  spurs  and 
high  mountain  valleys  from  view.  The  beautiful  scene  did  not  long  con- 
tinue: soon  the  mist  thickened  into  a cloud,  and  again  the  interminable 
rain  began  to  fall.  And  as  if  to  add  to  our  discomfort,  the  driver  of  our 
wagon,  about  the  same  time,  declared  that  he  could  go  no  further,  and 
we  were  obliged  again  to  plod  along  on  foot. 

At  noon  we  stopped  for  dinner  at  a miserable  hut  close  to  the  road. 
There  was  nothing  inviting  about  the  'place,  but  no  other  house  was  in 
sight.  The  owner  belonged  to  the  class  of  “ poor  whites,’*  whose  condi- 
tion in  the  old  slavery  days  was  little  if  any  better  than  that  of  the  slaves. 
They  owned  no  property  of  their  own,  seemed  to  be  devoid  of  any  ambi- 
tion to  better  their  condition  in  life,  and  eked  out  a scanty  subsistence  by 
hunting  or  fishing,  only  working  for  a day  or  two  occasionally  when  driven 
to  it  by  hunger.  The  terms  “ sand-hiller,”  “ clay-eater,**  or  “ poor  white 
trash,**  conveyed  a terrible  reproach,  for  even  the  negroes  looked  down 
upon  them.  Of  course  our  entertainment  was  of  the  plainest,  but  we^ate 
our  half-ground  and  half-baked  corn  bread  and  strong  pork  cheerfully, 
paid  a round  price,  and  passed  on  our  way. 

Soon  after  dinner  we  fell  in  with  Mark  Wood,  who  had  possessed  him- 
self of  a bottle  of  apple-brandy  and  imbibed  too  freely.  He  was  talka- 
tive, and  in  no  fit  state  for  meeting  strangers.  But  we  walked  him  along 
rapidly  and  gave  no  one  a chance  to  say  a word  to  him  until  the  fumes 
had  passed  away,  when  he  was  so  much  frightened  by  his  imprudence  and 
its  dangerous  possibilities  as  to  have  no  inclination  to  repeat  the  offense. 
This  was  the  only  instance  of  that  kind  during  the  whole  trip;  and  there 
was  but  little  even  of  moderate  drinking  in  the  company. 

We  had  now  reached  the  foot  of  the  Cumberland  mountains  and  ad- 
dressed ourselves  to  the  task  of  climbing  the  steep  slope.  While  going 
up  the  first  long  hill  we  overtook  a Confederate  soldier  of  the  Eastern 
army  who  was  at  home  on  a furlough.  He  was  quite  a veteran,  having 
been  in  a number  of  battles,  and  among  them  the  first  Bull  Run,  which 
he  described  very  minutely.  Little  did  bethink  that  I too  had  been  there, 
as  we  laughed  at  the  wild  panic  of  the  Yankees.  He  expressed  great  de- 
light to  see  so  many  Kentuckians  coming  out  on  “the  right  side,**  and 
contrasted  our  noble  conduct  with  that  of  some  people  in  his  own  neigh- 
borhood who  still  sympathized  with  “ the  Abolitionists.**  When  we  parted 
he  grasped  my  hands  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  said  that  he  hoped  the 
time  would  soon  come  when  we  would  be  comrades,  fighting  side  by  side 
in  one  glorious  cause.  My  heart  revolted  from  the  hypocrisy  I was  com- 
pelled to  use,  but  having  begun  there  was  no  possibility  of  turning  back. 

On  we  clambered  up  the  mountain  till  the  top  was  reached;  then-across 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached, 


75 


the  summit,  which  was  a tolerably  level  table-land  about  six  miles  in 
breadth;  then,  down  again  over  steep  rocks^  yawning  chasms,  and  great 
gullies.  This  rough  jaunt  led  us  into  Battle  Creek  Valley,  which  is 
delightful  and  picturesque,  being  hemmed  in  by  projecting  ridges  of  lofty 
mountains. 

While  here  they  told  me  how  this  valley  obtained  its  name,  which  is 
certainly  a very  romantic  legend,  and  probably  true. 

In  early  times  there  was  a war  among  the  Indians.  One  tribe  made  a 
plundering  expedition  into  the  country  of  another,  and  after  securing 
their  booty  retreated.  Of  course  they  were  pursued,  and  in  their  flight, 
were  traced  to  this  valley.  There  the  pursuers  believed  them  to  be  conceal- 
ed^ and,  to  make  their  capture  sure,  divided  their  own  force  into  two 
bands,  each  one  taking  an  opposite  side  of  the  valley.  It  was  early  in 
the  morning,  and  as  they  wended  their  way  cautiously  along,  the  moun- 
tain mist  came  down  (just  as  I had  seen  it  do  that  morning),  and  envelop- 
ed each  party  in  its  folds.  Determined  not  to  be  foiled,  the  pursuing 
bands  marched  on,  and  meeting  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  each  supposed 
the  other  to  be  the  enemy,  and  at  once  attacked  with  great  vigor.  Not 
till  nearly  all  their  number  had  fallen  did  the  survivors  discover  their 
mistake,  and  then  they  slowly  and  sorrowfully  returned  to  their  wigwams. 
The  plunderers  who  had  listened  to  the  conflict  in  safety,  being  further 
up  the  mountains,  were  thus  left  at  liberty  to  carry  home  their  booty  in 
triumph. 

But  we  had  no  leisure  for  legendary  tales. 

The  sun  set  behind  the  heavy  masses  of  the  mountain,  and  we  again 
sought  a resting-place  for  the  night.  We  soon  found  the  house  of  a 
rabid  secessionist  whom  our  soldier  friend  on  the  mountain  had  recom- 
mended to  us.  He  received-  us  with  open  arms,  and  shared  with  us  the 
best  his  house  afforded,  giving  us  his  only  bedroom  and  sleeping  with  his 
family  in  the  living-room  or  kitchen.  This  reception  of  open-handed 
hospitality,  which  we  knew  was  given  by  those  whose  dearest  hopes  we 
were  laboring  to  overthrow,  was  even  more  painful  than  the  plentiful 
falsehoods  to  which  we  were  compelled.  We  spent  the  evening  in  de- 
nouncing the  Abolitionists,  which  term  was  used  indiscriminately,  like 
that  of  ‘Wankees,*'  to  designate  all  who  did  not  advocate  the  acknowl- 
edgement of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  Practice  had  rendered  it  nearly 
as  easy  for  us  to  talk  on  this  side  of  the  question  as  on  the  other;  and  a 
little  observation  had  shown  us  just  how  the  Confederates  liked  to  hear  us 
talk. 

There  was  one  truth  we  told,  however,  that  made  more  impression  than 
all  our  falsehoods.  In  the  character  of  Kentuckians  we  informed  our 
host  that  we  were,  so  far  as  the  Yankee  sympathisers  in  our  state  could 
accomplish  it,  forever  exiled  from  our  homes  by  the  expatriation  law 


76 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


y 


recently  passed  by  the  Kentucky  legislature.  This  act  made  the  reason- 
able provision  that  any  person  going  south  to  fight  in  the  army  of  the 
rebels  should  lose  all  rights  of  citizenship  in  the  state  which  he  thus  for- 
sook. The  old  man  thought  this  was  unparalleled  oppression;  and  in 
the  morning  befpre  we  were  out  of  bed,  came  into  the  room  and  desired 
that  I should  write  that  law  down  that  he  might  show  his  Union  neighbors 
what  the  Yankees  would  do  when  they  had  the  sway.  As  soon  as  I was 
up,  I wrote  it,  and  we  all  afterward  signed  our  names  to  it.  No  doubt 
that  document  was  the  theme  of  many  angry  discussions  in  the  houses  ^ 
among  the  spurs  of  the  Cumberland  during  the  months  of  rebel  domina- 
tion that  followed.  So  thoroughly  did  we  deceive  the  old  man,  that  when 
two  days  after,  the  railroad  capture  fell  upon  the  astonished  Confederates 
like  a clap  of  thunder  out  of  a clear  sky,  he  would  not  believe  that  his 
guests  were  part  of  the  men  engaged  in  it.  One  of  his  Union  neighbors 
afterward  told  us  that  to  the  last  our  host  maintained  that  we  were  true  ^ 
and  loyal  Southerners.  I would  have  greatly  enjoyed  visiting  him  in  my 
true  character,  but  never  have  had  the  opportunity. 

It  was  now  Thursday  morning.  That  evening  we  should  have  been  in 
Marietta,  and  here  we  still  were  in  the  spurs  of  the  Cumberland,  more 
than  a hard  day's  journey  from  Chattanooga.  But  a momentous  decis- 
ion, full  of  disaster,  had'  been  arrived  at  the  afternoon  before.  In  our 
company  we  had  discussed  the  slowness  of  our  progress  and  had  resolved 
to  get  supper,  and  then  making  the  best  excuse  we  could,  to  set  out  for  a 
night  journey,  getting  so  near  Chattanooga,  or  a station  west  of  it,  that 
we  could  reach  there  in  time  for  the  down  train  for  Marietta.  The  pros- 
pect of  such  a night  journey  was  not  pleasant — far  less  than  that  of  sitting 
by  the  fireside,  discussing  politics,  and  sleeping  on  a soft  bed;  but  it  was 
not  an  extraordinary  hardship,  and  we  would  have  endured  it  without 
complaint.  Yet  it  was  a considerable  relief  when  we  learned,  from  a 
squad  that  came  along  just  after  supper,  that  Andrews  had  postponed  the 
enterprise  one  day  on  account  of  the  unexpected  hindrances  of  the  weather. 
The  result  of  this  in  increasing  the  difficulty  of  the  final  achievement 
fourfold,  could  not  have  been  certainly  foreseen;  but  delays  are  always 
dangerous.  Why  did  Andrews  take  this  risk  ? The  men  could  have 
easily  been  urged  on  to  their  work;  and  as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  those 
who  did  not  get  the  word  of  postponement  were  on  time  at  the  Marietta 
rendezvous. 

The  answer  is  easy,  Andrews  knew  Gen.  Buell  better  than  he  knew 
Mitchel.  With  probably  any  other  officer  in  the  war  except  Stonewall 
Jackson  on  one  side,  and  Mitchel  on  the  other,  it  would  have  been  per- 
fectly safe  to  calculate  that  such  a series  of  down -pours  as  we  had  experi- 
enced ever  since  we  had  left  camp,  would  have  caused  more  than  one 
day's  delay  in  three  days’  march  of  an  army;  and  if  Mitchel  was  delayed. 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached, 


77 


it  would  be  possibly  better  for  us  not  to  be  too  early  on  the  ground. 
But  Mitchel,  with  a fertility  of  resources  almost  incredible,  and  with  in- 
flexible determination,  had  pressed  on;  and  neither  drenching  rain,  fathom- 
less mud,  nor  bridges  swept  away,  delayed  him  an  hour  ! The  calcula- 
tion of  Andrews,  which  would  have  been  right  ninety-nine  times,  failed  in 
the  hundredth  ! 

About  noon  on  Thursday  we  came  to  the  town  of  Jasper,  and  walked 
quietly  up  the  street  to  the  principal  grocery  of  the  place,  where  we  rested 
a while  and  talked  with  the  idlers  gathered  around  on  the  state  of  ^the 
country.  We  told  them  that  Kentucky  was  just  ready  to  rise  and  shake 
off  her  Yankee  chains.  They  gave  us  ready  credence,  and  in  turn  com- 
municated some  wonderful  items  of  news. 

Having  been  now  three  days  outside  of  our  own  lines  we  were  extreme- 
ly anxious  for  any  kind  of  intelligence.  Nothing  could  be  heard  in  regard 
to  Mitchel,  which  was  a little  disappointing,  as  we  thought  that  his  move- 
ment southward  would  by  this  time  have  caused  some  excitement;  but  it 
was  so  silent,  and  all  communication  with  his  columns  was  so  completely 
cut  pff,  that  until  the  blow  fell  the  next  day,  scarcely  anything  was  known 
of  him. 

But  we  heard  the  first  indistinct  rumor  of  the  battle  of  Shiloh  or  Pitts- 
burg Landing.  Of  course  it  was  believed  to  be  a great  rebel  victory,  in 
which  thousands  of  Yankees  had  been  killed  and  innumerable  prisoners 
taken,  as  well  as  scores  of  cannon.  It  was  the  impression  that  the  armies 
of  Grant  and  Buell  were  totally  destroyed.  This  did  not  cause  us  any 
great  degree  of  uneasiness,  for  we  placed  a low  estimate  on  the  accuracy 
of  Southern  news — being  in  this  almost  as  extreme  as  some  of  the  negroes 
we  afterward  knew  in  Atlanta,  who  made  it  their  rule  to  believe  the  exact 
opposite  of  whatever  their  masters  asserted.  One  countr3^man  gravely 
assured  me  that  five  hundred  gunboats  had  been  sunk  ! I told  him  that  I 
did  not  think  the  Yankees  had  so  many  as  that,  but  was  not  able  to  shake 
his  faith. 

From  Jasper  we  journeyed  directly  to  the  banks  of  the  Tennessee 


River  with  the  intention  of  crossing  in  the  morning  and  taking  passage  on 


^ night  to  a kind  of  rude  country  hotel  well  known  in  the  neighborhood  as 
i Widow  Hall’s.”  The  entertainment  here  was  excellent;  and  as  we 


\ believed  the  harder  part  of  our  travel  to  be  over,  we  were  in  high  spirits. 

Andrews  and  several  others  joined  us,  and  for  the  first  time,  as  we 
; spent  a social  evening  together,  we  had  a chance  to  become  in  s.ome  de- 
I gree  acquainted.  The  large  guest-chamber  with  its  great  roaring  fire,  and 
I two  beds  in  the  corners  opposite,  was  exceedingly  comfortable;  and  after 
a smoking  hot  supper,  we  gathered  around  the  open  fire  and  began  to  talk. 
The  family  were  with  us,  and  we  personated  strangers  who  had  met  for 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


. 78 


the  first  time.  Many  stories  were  told  of  our  home  life  in  Kentucky,  and 
the  different  parts  of  Fleming  county  from  which  we  came,  and  in  these, 
imagination  naturally  played  a larger  part  than  memory.  Andrews  was, 
according  to  his  wont,  rather  silent  and  reflective,  but  appeared  greatly 
to  enjoy  the  conversation  of  others.  Especially  did  he  show  that  he 
appreciated  the  wit  of  Shadrack  (which  seemed  to  pour  forth  in  an  unend- 
ing stream)  remarking:  “That  man  never  opens  his  mouth  but  he  says 
something  Wilson  as  usual  gave  us  copious  information  on  every  sub- 
ject that  was  broached.  He  let  it  be  known  that  he  had  travelled  widely, 
and  dominated  the  conversation  in  all  serious  and  political  matters — for 
we  did  not  shun  the  war  politics  of  the  day — as  much  as  Shadrack  did  in 
sport  and  humor.  Dorsey,  who  like  myself  had  been  a school-teacher, 
formed  the  idea  that  it  might  be  better  for  him  to  appear  to  know  but 
little,  and  carried  out  this  notion  during  all  the  expedition  as  well  as  this 
evening.  He  was  amused  and  felt  complimented  when  told  by  a member 
of  the  squad  who  had  followed  him,  that  some  of  the  citizens  of  Jasper 
had  referred  to  his  party  as  a “lot  of  country  fellows,  who  scarcely  knew 
enough  to  come  in  when  it  rained.’^  Songs  were  sung  and  the  nine  or  ten 
of  us  who  were  together  began  to  be  acquainted — not  the  less  so  that  each 
knew  all  the  others  to  be  acting  fictitious  parts.  There  was  no  drinking; 
for  that  would  have  been  an  element  of  danger,  destroying  all  hilarity. 
Just  such  another  evening  I never  spent.  The  absence  of  all  restraint  in 
speaking  of  our  former  life;  the  equal  latitude  with  which  we  discussed 
our  plans  and  hopes;  the  presence  of  some  admiring  auditors  who  either 
believed  all  we  said,  or,  thinking  that  we  were  only  using  a traveller’s 
privilege,  were  too  courteous  to  contradict  us;  and  another  portion  of 
the  audience  who  knew  we  were  acting,  and  could  appreciate  and  imitate 
from  that  standpoint; — all  combined  to  make  the  whole  like  a stimu- 
lating and  highly  interesting  game.  Our  gaieties  were  prolonged  to  a 
very  late  hour,  but  no  opportunity  came  to  repeat  them;  before  another 
day  closed  we  were  in  very  different  scenes. 

Several  of  our  number  were  in  advance,  and  four  spent  the  same 
evening  south  of  the  Tennessee — two  who  had  not  been  notified  of 
the  change  in  our  plans  even  reaching  Marietta.  These  latter  were  Por- 
ter and  Hawkins:  and  as  they  found  that  the  party  were  not  on  hand  to 
start  Friday  morning,  they  remained  in  their  hotel  waiting  for  us. 

Reddick  and  Wollam  lodged  on  Wednesday  night  with  an  exceedingly 
hospitable  and  influential  rebel  who  lived  in  a large  double  house.  They 
won  his  entire  confidence  even  too  completely,  for  he  was  very  anxious 
that  they  should  enlist  in  a cavalry  company  his  son  was  commissioned  to 
raise  for  Confederate  service.  Fortunately  they  had  told  him  a slight 
modification  of  the  common  Kentucky  story — claiming  that  they  were 
already  enlisted  in  the  regiment  of  a Kentucky  Colonel  Williams,  and 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached. 


79 


were  now  on  their  way  to  join  him.  Their  host  offered  to  send  at  once  to 
Colonel  Williams  and  get  them  excused,  entertaining  them  in  the  mean- 
while at  his  house,  if  they  would  only  consent  to  join  his  son;  adding  that 
some  other  Kentuckians  had  just  passed  by  who  had  left  their  homes  in 
the  same  way,  and  he  had  sent  on  to  Jasper  to  persuade  them  also  to  re- 
turn. They  still  refused  to  yield.  He  then  told  them  that  it  was  two  days’ 
hard  walk  from  where  they  were  to  Chattanooga,  but  that  he  could  put 
them  on  a plan  by  which  they  could  reach  there  that  same  evening. 

It  is  against  the  law,”  he  added,  ^Tor  any  man  in  this  country  to 
ferry,  except  the  regular  ferryman,  but  to  help  you  along  I will  take  the 
responsibility  upon  myself.  My 
sons  are  ferrying  bacon  across  the 
river  for  the  army;  you  go  down 
and  tell  them  that  I said  for 
them  to  put  you  over.  It  will 
then  be  only  half  a mile  to  Shell- 
Mound  station,  and  you  will  have 
time  enough  to  catch  the  twelve 
o’clock  train  for  ChatUnooga.” 

He  then  gave  them  a guide 
to  the  ferry,  and  his  boys  obe- 
diently set  them  over  and  direc- 
ted them  to  the  station.  They 
had  to  wait  long  for  the  arrival 
of  the  train,  which  was  several 
hours  late.  When  it  came  they 
found  a whole  regiment  of  rebel 
soldiers  on  board,  who  had  been 
sent  on  to  Corinth  to  reinforce 

-r>  j r r William  Reddick.  From  a war-time  photograph. 

Beauregard,  but  for  some  reason 

that  they  did  not  understand  had  been  turned  back.  Reddick  and  Wol- 
1am  did  not  fail  to  get  on  board  and  were  kindly  received,  but  managed  to 
say  little  till  they  reached  Chattanooga.  They  were  just  in  time  for  the 
down  train  for  Marietta,  but  as  they  had  learned  that  the  attempt  was  to 
be  laid  over  for  another  day,  they  preferred  waiting  till  morning. 

At  the  Crutchfield  House  to  which  they  repaired,  there  was  so  great 
a crowd  that  the  only  bed  they  could  get  was  in  the  same  room  with  two 
very  sick  Confederate  soldiers.  These  had  some  kind  of  fever  and  kept 
calling  for  water  continually.  The  bell-knob  had  a card  on  it,  saying 
that  twenty-five  cents  would  be  charged  for  every  time  that  bell  was  rung 
during  the  night.  Our  comrades,  however,  had  money,  and  not  only 
remained  awake  most  of  the  night  ministering  to  their  foes,  but  invested 
a good  many  quarters  in  their  beh^lf.  The  sick  soldiers’  gratitude  and 


8o  Daring  and  Suffering, 

promises  to  return  the  favor  if  ever  in  their  power,  were,  under  the  circum- 
stances, very  touching. 

The  next  day  the  raiders  strolled  for  a time  about  the  town,  being  in 
both  the  commissary  and  ordinance  departments.  This  was  scarcely  pru- 
dent, but  they  seem  to  have  acquired  perfect  confidence.  They  also 
witnessed  the  burial  of  some  officers  with  the  honors  of  war,  who  had  been 
killed  at  Pittsburg  Landing.  Happening  to  go  to  a photographic  gallery 
they  were  seized  with  the  desire  to  have  their  pictures  taken.  The  artist 
asked  them  to  wait  awhile,  as  he  was  engaged  in  whittling  out  a frame 
with  his  penknife  from  a cigar  box,  explaining  that  since  he  had  been 
“ cut  off  from  communication  with  Yankeedom,”  he  had  been  compelled 
to  make  everything  for  himself.  The  frames  when  completed  were  very 
handsome,  and  the  pictures  that  were  then  taken  for  them  were  prized  the 
more  because  of  this  home-made  setting;  but  they  were  afterwards  pre- 
sented to  the  wife  of  Swims,  the  Chattanooga  jailer. 

In  the  evening  they  were  at  the  depot  when  the  remainder  of  the  party 
came  in.  Andrews  gave  them  a warm  grasp  of  the  hand,  and  assured 
them  that  all  was  right. 

There  were  three  other  men  who  reached  Chattanooga  in  advance 
of  the  larger  party, — an  important  contingent,  for  without  them  the  whole 
expedition  would  have  been  helpless.  Our  engineers.  Brown  and  Knight, 
were  with  this  squad.  They  met  at  the  night  consultation,  and  from  that 
time  throughout  the  expedition  were  inseparable.  They  had  the  same  ex- 
perience with  the  rain  that  has  already  been  narrated,  sleeping  that  night 
in  a barn.  At  day-break  they  got  up  and  walked  five  or  six  miles  before 
breakfast,  and  then  stopped  with  a strong  “Southern  rights  man,“  which 
was  just  the  kind  of  men  they  wanted  to  find.  They  told  him  that  they 
were  from  Fleming  Co.,  Kentucky,  and  were  going  to  Chattanooga  to  see 
if  they  could  find  any  regiment  from  their  own  State  in  which  to  enlist. 
Knight  continues: 

“We  asked  him  for  the  names  of  some  good  men  we  could  trust  along  the  line  of  our 
journey,  so  that  we  could  keep  away  from  all  Yankee  sympathizers.  These  he  gladly  gave, 
and  guided  us  past  the  last  Federal  outpost.  Soon  after  he  left  us,  we  came  to  a rebel 
picket  in  the  bend  of  the  road,  and  were  upon  them  before  we  sav/  them.  They  were  armed 
with  double-barrelled  shot  guns  and  were  not  slow  in  bringing  them  to  bear  on  us,  and 
demanding  that  we  should  give  an  acconnt  of  ourselves  or  be  blown  through.  The  usual 
story  proving  satisfactory,  they  dropped  the  guns  and  presented  a quart  bottle,  which,  being 
less  formidable,  we  did  not  refuse. 

“ That  day  we  crossed  the  Cumberland  Mountains  and  took  dinner  just  beyond.  An 
old  lady  and  two  daughters  were  the  only  persons  in  the  house,  and  there  was  a small  Union 
flag  over  the  mantel  piece.  We  told  them  that  they  were  displaying  the  wrong  kind  of  a 
banner,  but  they  stood  up  for  the  old  ‘ Stars  and  Stripes  ’ royally,  and  it  went  sorely  against 
the  grain  for  us  to  disagree  with  them.  That  was  the  last  Union  flag  we  saw  for  eight 
months. 

“ That  night  we  lodged  with  a Colonel  who  was  a violent  rebel,  and  gave  us  a terrible 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached. 


8i 


downsetting  on  the  sly.  It  would  not  have  been  safe  for  him  to  say  what  he  did  against 
Union  soldiers  if  we  had  been  sailing  under  our  own  colors  ; but  now  he  had  the  advantage, 
and  we  took  it  meekly.  He  sent  us  for  the  next  night’s  lodging  to  a Major,  who  was  more 
quiet  and  seemed  to  be  reading  our  thoughts  in  secret.  He  could  not  have  succeeded  very 
well,  for  he  gave  us  a letter  to  a squire,  (all  the  people  in  the  South  had  some  kind  of  title  ! ) 
and  directed  us  to  reach  his  house  by  the  trail  that  led  over  the  mountain  spurs,  through  a 
most  desolate  part  of  the  country.  It  was  rough  travelling,  and  we  did  not  see  a man  or  a 
house  all  day  ; but  it  brought  us  out  all  right  in  the  evening,  and  only  live  or  six  miles  from 
Chattanooga.  The  squire  proved  to  be  a good  entertainer,  which  after  our  dinnerless  jaunt 
was  well  appreciated  ; he  seemed-  also  well  posted  in  army  movements,  telling  us  how  the 
Yankees  were  moving  on  Huntsville,  which  was  no  news  to  us,  though  we  had  not  before 
heard  it  intimated  by  any  of  the  citizens.  He  said  that  the  Southern  army  was  moving 
back  only  to  get  the  Yanks  in  a trap,  which  they  had  already  set.  He  told  us  that  we  might 
see  the  last  one  of  them  in  irons  in  Chattanooga  before  many  days.  We  did  not  believe 
him  then,  but  we  certainly  did  see  some  of  them  in  that  condition.  The  squire  was  kind 
enough  to  give  us  a letter  in  the  morning,  which  he  said  would  pass  us  over  the  river,  and 
introduce  us  to  a Colonel  in  Chattanooga.  We  did  not  need  to  use  it  for  the  first,  as  there 
were  no  guards  set  that  day  ; and  we  had  no  inclination  to  use  it  for  an  introduction. 

“ During  the  day  we  strolled  around  the  streets  of  the  village — for  at  that  time  Chat- 
tanooga was  nothing  more — and  saw  whatever  we  thought  worth  looking  at.  Toward  even- 
ing we  saw  many  of  our  party  coming  in.  I did  not  know  them  personally,  as  I had  not 
yet  had  an  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted,  but  I could  have  picked  them  out  from 
the  whole  Southern  army.  Vv'^e  were  at  the  depot  in  time  to  take  the  evening  train,  with 
the  others,  for  Marietta.” 

Thus  there  were  on  Friday  morning  at  least  seven  of  our  party  south 
of  the  Tennessee,  and  it  was  necessary  that  we  should  overtake  them 
before  they  arrived  at  Marietta,  or  join  them  this  evening  at  that  point. 
Notwithstanding  our  protracted  gaiety  at  “the  widow  HalTs,”  we  were 
up  by  daybreak,  and  Andrews  mounted  and  rode  back  into  the  country 
without  waiting  for  breakfast.  It  was  but  a few  hundred  yards  to  a place 
where  an  old  flat-boat  was  kept,  by  which  we  intended  to  cross  the  Ten- 
nessee. So  we  waited  for  our  breakfast  and  then  went  leisurely  down  to 
the  river  bank,  for  we  had  ample  time  to  reach  the  station  on  the  other  side 
before  the  noon  train;  not  to  be  in  a hurry  was  a great  luxury.  But  while 
the  owner  of  the  flat-boat  was  bailing  it  out,  a man  rode  up  with  a stringent 
order  to  permit  no  person  to  cross,  on  any  pretense,  for  three  days.  The 
only  explanation  given  was  the  rumor  that  the  Yankees  were  coming. 
VVe  had  no  fear  of  the  Yankees,  and  wanted  to  get  over  very  badly;  but 
our  urgenc}^  could  make  no  impression.  We  might  have  forced  a passage, 
but  we  wished  to  abstain  from  violence.  To  build  a raft  and  get  over 
was  possible,  but  if  seen  would  have  been  reported  at  Chattanooga,  and 
might  have  led  to  a searching  investigation.  The  best  thing  we  could 
think  of  was  to  go  up  the  river  to  Chattanooga,  and  try  to  get  over  directly 
at  the  town.  This  involved  a laborious  and  hurried  half  day’s  journey 
mostly  over  mountain  paths  and  rugged  valleys.  The  river  is  very 
crooked  and  as  we  journeyed  we  were  sometimes  on  its  banks,  and  again, 
6 


82 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


miles  distant.  At  length  we  turned  into  a road  that  was  more  travelled, 
and  which  led  down  a valley  directly  to  the  river  bank  nearly  opposite 
Chattanooga.  Travellers  were  now  more  frequent  and  from  them  we 
learned  many  items  of  news.  The  accounts  of  the  battle  of  Pittsburg 
Landing  w^ere  not  quite  so  rose-colored  as  the  day  before,  but  still  they 
told  of  a wonderful  victory,  though  not  won  without  considerable  loss. 

One  item  of  news  from  the  East  was  still  more  interesting:  it  was  that 
the  Merrimac  had  steamed  out,  and  after  engaging  the  Monitor  for  some 
time  without  decisive  result,  had  thrown  her  grappling  irons  on  the  latter, 
and  towed  her  ashore,  where  of  course  she  fell  an  easy  prey.  Our  infor- 


Preparing  to  Cross  the  Tennessee  River. 


mant  claimed  that  now,  as  the  Confederates  had  the  two  best  gunboats  in 
the  world,  they  would  be  able  to  raise  the  blockade  without  difficulty,  and 
burn  the  Northern  cities.  I need  not  say  that  the  histories  of  the  war 
have  all  neglected  to  record  this  wonderful  capture.  From  this  time 
forward  we  heard  of  almost  continuous  Confederate  victories,  although 
it  was  not  infrequently  stated,  after  a battle,  that  their  owm  forces  had 
fallen  back  for  strategic  reasons. 

On  reaching  the  river  shortly  after  noon  we  saw  a large  number  of 
persons,  several  of  them  belonging  to  our  own  party.  The  ferryman  was 
also  here  with  his  craft,  a little  frail  boat  driven  by  horses,  but  such  a 
fearful  wind  storm  was  raging  that  he  feared  to  attempt  the  passage.  We 
waited  as  patiently  as  possible.  Others  of  our  number  came  up  and  the 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached.  83 

danger  of  detection  correspondingly  increased.  We  urged  the  boatman 
to  try  the  passage^  and  not  to  be  afraid  of  a little  breeze,  but  he  was  un- 
willing to  do  this  until  the  wind  moderated,  as  he  said  it  was  sure  to  do 
with  the  setting  of  the  sun.  This  was  well  enough,  had  it  not  been  that 
our  train  on  the  other  side — the  last  which  would  be  of  any  service  to  us 
— was  to  start  at  five  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  it  was  drawing  uncom- 
fortably near  that  time.  At  length,  when  we  could  not  persuade  him,  we 
tried  another  plan — that  of  making  him  angry.  We  talked  at  him,  speak- 
ing of  his  cowardice,  which  we  contrasted  with  the  bravery  of  Kentuckians 
or  even  of  Ohio  Yankees  ! Soon  he  grew  very  indignant,  and  told  us  that 
if  we  would  only  show  some  of  our  skill  by  helping  him  to  get  out  in  the 
stream.,  he  would  put  us  across  or  drown  us  in  the  attempt;  and  for  his 
part  he  did  not  care  much  which.  We  promptly  accepted  the  not  very 
gracious  invitation,  and  when  all  who  were  willing  to  risk  tlie  passage  were 
on  board,  we  took  hold  with  pushing  poles,  and  slso  pulling  on  overhang- 
ing limbs, — for  the  river  was  flooded,  and  the  current  very  swift,  against 
which  the  beating  of  the  wind  raised  sharp  and  ugly  waves, — we  succeeded 
in  getting  a good  start  up  the  river  and  after  some  tossing  landed  safely 
on  the  other  side. 

We  cared  very  little  for  the  danger  by  water,  because  we  feared  an- 
other more  formidable  on  the  land.  We  had  every  reason  to  anticipate 
a strict  guard  on  the  Chattanooga  shore,  and  supposed  that  at  the  rebel 
headquarters  they  would  be  less  easy  to  satisfy  than  the  citizens  in  the 
mountains.  No  pass  had  been  asked  for  by  the  ferryman;  but  this  was 
natural  enough  if  the  guard  was  on  the  other  side. 

We  looked  with  keenest  interest  across  the  turbid  water  toward  the  town. 
We  saw  no  sign  of  fortifications,  and  at  this  date  there  were  none.  What 
then  was  there  in  its  situation  which  made  this  place  of  so  great  import- 
ance, and  caused  rivers  of  blood  afterwards  to  be  shed  for  its  possession  ? 

Chattanooga  is  not  on  a high  mountain — indeed  much  of  it  lies  so  low 
as  to  be  easily  flooded  by  the  Tennessee — but  there  are  sufficiently  steep 
hills  of  moderate  height  immediately  around  it  to  render  fortification  easy. 
At  a distance  it  is  surrounded  by  mighty  mountain  ramparts,  from  which 
it  commands  the  egress  in  almost  every  direction.  Many  valleys  converge 
at  or  near  Chattanooga — the  upper  and  lower  Tennessee,  North  and  South 
Lookout,  Chickamauga,  and  Sequatchie.  The  sides  of  these  are  all  very 
steep,  and  some  absolutely  impassable  to  an  army.  This  is  the  reason 
that  all  common  roads  and  railroads  through  a large  section  of  the  coun- 
try converge  at  Chattanooga.  Now  it  is  a military  maxim  that  an  army  is 
never  so'  easily  attacked  and  destroyed,  or,  on  the  other  side,  is  never  so 
weak  in  aggression,  as  when  emerging  from  a mountain  defile.  ChaUa- 
nooga,  if  adequately  fortified  and  held  by  a moderate  force,  was  well-nigh 
impregnable,  and  dominated  all  the  surrounding  country;  it  furnished  the 


84 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


best  starting-point  for  a hostile  movement  in  any  direction.  When  to 
this  is  added  the  fact  that  it  was  the  natural  centre  of  a great  mountain 
district  passionately  loyal  to  the  old'  flag,  its  importance  to  the  Federals 
early  in  the  war  is  seen  to  be  immeasurable.  Had  Mitchei  reached 
Chattanooga  a day  or  two  after  we  stood  gazing  at  the  town,  a7id  with  the 
bridges  south  of  it  burned^  two  or  three  things  would  have  followed  with 

almost  mathematical  certainty. 
He  would  have  skillfully  and 
quickly  fortified  the  place;  down 
every  mountain  defile  would  have 
streamed  loyal  recruits  to  his  ban- 
ner; and  East  Tennessee,  already 
in  insurrection,  would  have  driven 
out  Gen.  E.  Kirby  Smith  with  his 
small  army.  No  doubt  the  enemy 
would  have  put  forth  tremendous 
efforts  to  regain  a place  of  so  m.uch 
importance.  But  Mitchei  would 
have  had  railroad  communications 
open  with  Nashville  and  the  North,  while  the  enemy  could  not  have  come 
nearer  than  fifty  miles  by  rail.  Mitchel’s  army  would  have  been  at  once 
increased;  and  he,  not  the  languid  Halleck,  would  probably  have  been 
the  great  man  of  the  day,  a7id  the  first  Co7nmander-in-Chief  ! 

But  the  great  and  immediate  question  with  us  was,  “ How  shall  we  pass 
the  guard  on  the  further  side?''  Judge  then  of  our  delight  when,  on 
crossing,  we  saw  no  guard  whatever  and  were  permitted  to  pass  unques- 
tioned, and  without  entering  the  town,  directly  to  the  railroad  station, 
where  we  had  less  than  an  hour  to  wait  for  the  train.  I have  never 
learned  certainly  the  reason  of  this  sudden  relaxation  of  vigilance.  The 
simplest  explanation  would  be  to  suppose  that  the  sentries  were  with- 
drawn because  no  one  was  expected  to  cross  in  such  a storm;  but  it  is 
not  common  for  soldiers  on  guard  to  be  permitted  so  much  indulgence. 
Probably  all  attention  was  called  westward  to  meet  the  alarming  ad- 
vance of  Mitchei  in  the  direction  of  Bridgeport,  The  panic  produced 
by  his  occupation  of  Huntsville  and  his  headlong  rush  eastward  on  the 
railroads  with  train-loads  of  soldiers,  was  intense,  and  the  attention 
of  the  enemy  was  about  equally  divided  between  preparing  to  resist, 
and  preparing  to  evacuate — either  of  which  called  for  the  employment  of 
every  disposable  soldier.  The  occupation  of  this  road  also  cut  Chatta- 
nooga off  from  direct  communication  with  Beauregard  at  Corinth,  leaving 
only  the  'circuitous  route  through  Atlanta;  and  when  this  also  was  de- 
stroyed for  a time  the  next  day,  the  excitement  knew  no  bounds. 

At  the  station  we  found  several  of  our  party  who  had  come  earlier. 


Consulting  in  Darkness  and  Storm. 


The  Heart  of  the  Confederacy  Reached.  85 

and^  like  us,  were  waiting  for  the  train.  We  also  found  a large  number  of 
passengers,  many  of  them  soldiers.  Of  the  town  itself  we  saw  almost 
nothing. 

When  we  had  purchased  our  tickets,  and  had  ceased  to  walk  about  the 
station  for  the  purpose  of  looking  for  others  of  our  party,  we  got  on  board. 
Many  of  the  passengers  were  furloughed  soldiers,  who  were  going  back  by 
the  southern  route  to  join  Beauregard.  The  conversation  still  turned  to 
the  mighty  battle  of  Pittsburg  Landing,  and  the  spirit  of  the  soldiers 
seemed  to  be  wonderfully  stimulated  by  what  they  regarded  as  a great 
triumph.  We  took  part  in  the  talk,  and  expressing  as  much  interest  as 
any,  our  true  character  was  not  suspected.  There  was  no  system  of  pass- 
ports then  in  use  on  that  line,  or,  indeed,  in  most  others  in  the  South,  and 
travel  was  entirely  unrestricted.  Our  raid,  however,  wrought  a complete 
change  in  this  particular. 

The  sun  was  about  an  hour  high  as  we  glided  out  of  the  depot, 
and  it  soon  sank  to  rest  behind  the  hills  of  Georgia.  On  the  northern 
end  of  the  road  which  frequently  crosses  the  crooked  Chickamauga 
creek,  there  are  many  bridges,  and  one  additional  over  the  same  stream 
on  the  East  Tennessee  Road — eleven  large  ones  within  thirty  miles  ; and 
as  we  ran  southward  we  could  not  help  picturing  our  proposed  return  on 
the  morrow,  and  the  probabilities  of  the  destruction  we  intended  to  wreak 
upon  them.  Darkness  gradually  closed  in,  and  on  we  went  amid  the 
laughter  and  oaths  of  the  Confederates,  many  of  whom  were  very  much 
intoxicated.  I had  been  standing,  but  now  procured  a seat  on  the  coal- 
box,  and  gave  myself  up  to  reflections,  naturally  suggested  by  the  near 
culmination  of  our  enterprise.  Visions  of  former  days  and  friends — dear 
friends  both  around  the  camp-fire  and  the  hearth  at  home,  whom  I might 
never  see  again,  floated  before  me.  But  before  these  had  deepened  into 
sleep,  I was  aroused  by  the  call  of  Dalton,”  the  supper  station.  It  was 
after  dark,  for  the  train  had  been  making  very  slow  time — whether  it  was 
behind  or  not  I do  not  know,  but  the  running  on  all  the  Southern  roads 
was  but  moderate.  There  was  a great  rush  for  places  at  supper,  and  as  I 
was  near  the  door  and  excessively  hungry,  I managed  to  be  among  the 
foremost,  and  secured  a good  meal.  I remember  it  the  more  vividly  as 
it  was  the  last  regular  meal  to  which  I sat  down  for  more  than  eleven 
months  ! Not  all  of  the  passengers  were  so  fortunate.  There  was  not 
even  room  for  all  at  the  second  table,  though  the  conductor  was  very 
patient,  Buffum  raised  quite  a laugh  by  a dexterous  manoeuvre.  He 
was  small  and  agile,  and  when  a large  rebel  officer  rose  from  the  table, 
Buffum  stooped  down  and,  rising  under  his  arm,  dropped  into  his  place, 
just  as  a half  dozen  famished  persons  rushed  for  it.  “That’s  a Yankee 
trick  ! ” was  called  out  with  some  indignation,  and  a good  deal  more  truth 
than  the  speaker  imagined,  for  Buffum  was  a native  of  Massachusetts  I 


86 


Darmg  and  Suffering. 


After  supper  I felt  too  comfortable  to  trouble  myself  much  further 
either  with  speculations  or  memories  equally  vain;  so,  as  the  night  wore 
on,  I sank  into  a refreshing  slumber,  having  obtained  a regular  seat  in 
place  of  the  one  on  the  coal-box. 

Near  midnight  we  were  awakened  by  the  conductor  calling  “ Marietta/’ 
The  goal  was  reached.  We  were  now  almost  directly  in  the  centre  of  the 
Confederacy,  with  our  deadly  enemies  all  around  us.  Before  we  could 
return  many  miles  toward  our  own  lines  we  were  to  strike  a blow  that 
would  either  make  all  rebeldom  vibrate  to  its  centre,  or  be  ourselves  at 
the  m.ercy  of  the  merciless.  It  was  a time  for  very  serious  thought;  but  ^ 
most  of  us  were  too  weary  to  indulge  in  it.  In  the  Tremont  House,  the 
greater  part  of  us  registered  names — either  our  own  or  others — and  were 
soon  sleeping  soundly  — the  last  time  we  slept  in  bed  for  many  weary 
months  ! 

Andrews  was  with  the  larger  party  in  the  hotel  near  the  railroad  station, 
while  four  others,  among  whom  were  our  three  engineers,  were  in  the  ^ 
other  hotel  at  some  distance.  Two  of  these  were  not  awakened  in  time 
for  the  next  morning’s  train,  and  the  other  two  were  barely  able  to  get 
over.  Had  they  been  a few  moments  later  the  great  railroad  adventure, 
with  all  its  excitement  and  tragedy,  would  not  have  been! 

In  order  that  the  desperate  chase  of  the  morrow,  and  all  the  causes 
that  affected  its  issue,  may  be  fully  understood,  it  is  now  necessary  to 
narrate  what  had  taken  place  since  the  adventurers  had  left  their  camp  * 
four  days  earlier.  We  do  this  the  more  willingly  because  no  other  cam- 
paign in  the  whole  civil  war  displayed  more  of  genius  in  conception,  or  of 
energy  in  execution. 


I 


i 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  BLOODLESS  VICTORIES  OF  MITCHEL/ 

T T J"HEN  Gen.  Mitchel  broke  camp  at  Shelbyville  on  Tuesday  morning, 
Y/y  April  8,  1862,  his  destination  was  a profound  secret.  Some  of 
his  soldiers  may  have  conjectured  that  he  meant  to  march  to 
Huntsville  and  seize  the  Memphis  and  Charleston  Railroad,  but  he  com- 
municated his  intention  to  no  one.  Even  Gen.  Buell  was  not  positively 
informed,  so  far  as  appears;  for  that  officer,  after^having  written  the  com- 
prehensive letter  of  instruction  dated  March  27,  1862,^  that  summed  up  the 
views  on  which  the  two  commanders  agreed,  had  left  him  with  virtually 
an  independent  command.  He  was  now  about  to  undertake  a bold  but 
not  unduly  hazardous  advance,  which,  if  successful,  would  regain  more 
territory  for  the  flag  than  any  other  movement  hitherto  made  by  the 
Union  armies,  except  that  on  Fort  Donelson.  At  the  worst  he  would  but 
be  attacking  the  foe,  who  would  otherwise  attack  him. 

The  accompanying  map  will  give  a good  idea  of  the  campaign.  Two 
railroads  leading  south  diverged  at  Nashville,  and  after  running  about  a 
hundred  and  twenty  miles  struck  the  Memphis  and  Charleston  Railroad, 
which  ran  east  and  west  to  Decatur  and  Stevenson,  points  about  ninety- 
five  miles  apart.  There  is  a great  bridge  over  the  Tennessee  River  at 
Decatur  and  another  long  double  bridge,  with  an  island  in  the  centre,  at 
Bridgeport,  likewise  on  the  line  of  the  Memphis  and  Charleston  railroad. 
Between  these  bridges  the  Tennessee  River  arches  south  like  a great  bow, 
of  which  the  railroad  forms  the  string.  Huntsville  was  situated  on  this 
railroad,  nearer  to  Decatur  than  to  Bridgeport.  The  first  part  of  Mitchel's 
plan  was  to  move  quickly  between  the  east  and  west  railroads  to  Hunts- 
ville, and  then,  dividing  his  force,  to  occupy  all  the  Memphis  and  Charles- 
ton Road  north  of  the  Tennessee;  the  second  part  was  still  more  extended. 

Mitchel’s  army  consisted  of  the  three  brigades  of  his  own  division 
with  infantry  and  cavalry,  amounting  in  all  to  about  10,000,  in  the  highest 
state  of  efficiency;  also  Gen.  Negley^s  brigade  at  Columbia  with  addi- 
tional scattered  regiments  designed  to  guard  Nashville  and  protect  his 


* Special  obligation  is  acknowledged  to  F.  A.  Mitchel,  Esqr.,  for  use  of  papers  relating 
to  his  father’s  campaign.  The  substance  of  some  of  his  descriptions  is  closely  followed. 

^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  71. 


88 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


communications,  numbering  7000  or  8000  more.  These,  however,  were 
to  be  under  his  direct  command  only  in  case  of  emergency;  but  they  did 
add  materially  to  his  strength. 

On  Monday  night"  there  was  an  almost  tropical  rainfall,  which  con- 
tinued with  slight  intermission  the  following  day.  This  made  the  process 
of  striking  tents  and  preparing  for  marching  Tuesday  forenoon  far  from 
pleasant.  Preparations  were  made  very  leisurely  and  no  indication  of 
hurry  given.  A civilian  can  form  but  little  idea  of  the  discomfort  and 


dreariness  of  moving  camp  in  the  midst  of  a rain-storm.  The  tents  are 
wet  through  as  soon  as  struck,  the  clothing  of  the  soldiers  is  in  the  same 
condition;  the  knapsacks  are  wet  outside  and  too  often  inside  also;  the 
three  days’  rations  carried  in  the  haversacks  must  be  watched  very  closely, 
or  sugar,  salt,  and  crackers  will  melt  into  a paste-like  mass.  The  forty 
rounds  of  ammunition  and  the  loaded  musket  must  be  kept  dry  at  any  cost. 
Then  the  slow  ploughing  of  the  wagons  through  the  mud,  the  sticking  fast 


^ The  Andrews  expedition  left  camp  the  same  night. 


The  Bloodless  Victories  of  MitcheL 


89 


of  cannon,  the  roads  soon  trodden  into  thick  and  almost  bottomless  jelly 
— these  are  but  ordinary  discomforts^. of  which  a soldier  has  no  right  to 
make  special  complaint.'  A forced  march  under  such  conditions  is,  how- 
ever, a terrible  hardship,  which  only  a General  of  iron  will  and  great  as- 
cendancy over  his  men  can  exact.  But  Mitchel  had  taught  his  troops  to 
endure  “hardness  as  good  soldiers,”  and  they  plodded  on.  If  the  great 
weight  of  water-soaked  garments  and  blankets,  added  to  arms  and  equip- 
ments— a total  of  perhaps  sixty  pounds  per  man — with  the  mud  under 
foot,  compelled  them  to  go  slower,  they  only  marched  the  more  hours;  if 
the  wagons  with  the  camp  equipage  could  not  get  up  to  the  camp  at  night- 
fall, the  men  laid  down  unsheltered  on  the  flooded  ground;  and  when  the 
heavy  wagons  became  immovable,  the  soldiers  took  rails  and  pried  them 
out.  So  the  great  column  moved  wearily  on.  The  cavalry  was  thrown 
far  out  on  the  flanks  to  bring  in  all  travellers,  and  guard  against  any  sud- 
den dash  of  an  enemy,  while  chosen  companies  of  infantry,  also  in  advance 
of  the  solid  marching  columns,  were  scattered  as  skirmishers  over  the 
hills  and  through  the  woods,  keeping  even  pace  with  their  comrades  in  jthe 
road,  and  watching  to  see  that  no  foe  was  lurking  in  ambush.  Thus  the 
great  army  with  its  many  hundreds  of  wagons  and  cavalrymen,  and  thou- 
sands of  marching  men,  wound  its  way  steadily  over  the  gentle  hills  and 
valleys  and  flooded  rivulets  of  middle  Tennessee. 

Fayetteville,  a distance  of  twenty-seven  miles,  was  reached  in  two  days. 
Here  one  brigade  was  left  behind  as  a guard  for  all  the  baggage  and 
wagons  not  immediately  needed  in  the  still  more  active  service  beyond. 
The  other  two  brigades  rested  till  noon  of  Thursday,  April  loth,  and 
then,  being  in  light  marching  order,  moved  more  easily  and  swiftly  for- 
ward. The  rain  did  not  fall  on  this  day  and  a strong  wind  soon  made  the 
roads  more  passable.  One  brigade  continued  longer  on  the  march  than 
the  other,  pressing  on  and  on,  till  at  dusk  they  turned  into  the  fields  for 
rest,  pitching  no  tents  and  kindling  no  fires,  but  sleeping  on  their  arms. 
Now  they  were  within  ten  miles  of  Huntsville.  Pickets  were  thrown  out 
in  all  directions,  and  every  person  stirring  was  arrested,  both  to  gain  in- 
formation and  to  prevent  any  being  carried  to  the  enemy.  The  Huntsville 
mail  coach  was  captured,  and  brought  into  the  circle  of  peopled  fields. 

From  twilight  until  the  moon  went  down  about  two  o’clock  all  was 
quiet,  and  the  soldiers,  who  were  not  on  the  terribly  severe  outpost  duty, 
rested  as  best  they  could.  Had  the  advance  of  the  army  been  watched, 
the  report  would  have  doubtless  gone  forward  that  they  were  safety  en- 
camped for  the  night.  But  this  interval  was  one  of  intense  anxiety  for 
tlie  commander,  who  was  alert  and  at  work  all  that  night.  He  visited 
pickets  and  personally  questioned  citizens.  At  midnight  came  startling 
intelligence.  A negro  just  captured  made  the  assertion,  on  the  authority 
of  his  master,  that  5000  troops  had  arrived  at  Huntsville,  and  what  was 


90 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


still  worse^  that  they  had  been  warned  of  the  coming  of  the  Yankees.* 
There  was  nothing  improbable  in  such  a body  of  the  enemy  being  there, 
for  Huntsville  was  in  direct  communication  with  the  principal  armies  of 
the  South,  and  Mitchel  afterwards  said  that  he  fully  credited  the  presence 
of  the  troops,  but  did  not  believe,  in  view  of  his  precautions,  that  they 
could  know  of  his  own  coming.  The  outlook  was  far  from  cheering,  for 
he  had  not  more  than  three  thousand  men  in  his  advance-guard,  with 
which  the  town  must  be  won,  if  he  was  to  realize  the  advantage  of  a sur- 
prise. But  he  did  not  for  a moment  hesitate.  The  cavalry  was  divided 
into  three  bands.  The  first  and  second,  accompanied  by  two  or  three 
light  guns,  were  to  diverge  in  opposite  directions  from  the  main  body  and 
strike  the  railroad  some  distance  on  each  side  of  town,  for  the  purpose  of 
preventing  the  escape  of  any  engines  or  cars,  and  also  by  cutting  the  tele- 
graph wires  to  keep  the  capture  a secret  until  Mitchel  was  ready  to  report 
it  to  the  enemy  by  a further  advance.  The  third  detachment  was  to  gal- 
lop directly  to  the  telegraph  office  and  depot,  stopping  for  nothing  else, 
in  order  to  capture  all  dispatches  and  prevent  destruction  of  property. 

Before  two  o^clock  the  men  were  called  to  their  feet  without  roll  of 
drum  or  note  of  bugle,  and  Mitchel,  who  was  a ready  and  inspiring 
speaker,  briefly  addressed  each  regiment  as  it  filed  past  into  the  road, 
telling  what  a glorious  morning^s  work  was  before  them,  and  asking  them 
to  preserve  perfect  silence  till  the  moment  of  action.  Then  they  glided 
on  their  ghostly  way  like  an  army  of  shadows — even  the  horses  seeming 
almost  conscious  that  they  were  stealing  on  a sleeping  foe  ! No  conversa- 
tion was  permitted;  the  wagons  were  left  behind;  even  the  few  cannons 
were  moved  so  steadily  and  carefully  over  the  muddy  roads  that,  except 
on  striking  an  occasional  stone,  or  rumbling  over  a bridge,  they  gave  no 
sound. 

As  the  morning  hours  wore  on,  the  soldiers,  in  spite  of  the  thrilling 
nature  of  their  advance,  grew  tired  and  sleepy.  Half  way  the  little  village 
of  Meridianville  was  reached,  and  soon  silently  left  behind,  seeming  like  a 
city  of  the  dead,  for  no  voice  or  sound  was  heard,  and  the  people  could 
scarcely  credit  it  when  told  that  an  army  had  gone  by  while  they  slept ! 
The  coming  of  the  dawn  was  watched  for  with  the  greatest  eagerness  by 
all  the  soldiers.  At  the  first  tinge  of  day,  a party  of  cavalry  galloped  off 
to  the  West  and  was  soon  out  of  sight.  The  danger  of  the  enemy^s 
escape  was  greatest  in  that  direction,  as  on  the  eastern  side  the  railroad 
bent  northward  toward  them.  The  success  of  this  first  party  was  complete 
and  eventless. 

Now  Huntsville  is  but  four  miles  away,  and  the  railroad  leading  east- 


* The  negro’s  story  was  in  part  true  as  to  the  troops.  Over  3,000  had  passed  through 
Huntsville  the  day  before.  War  Records,  Series  L,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  page  643. 


The  Bloodless  Victories  of  MitcheL  91 

ward  not  half  that  distance.  The  dawn  broadens  into  clear  twilight  and 
the  advance-guard  hasten  their  steps;  the  infantry  take  the  side  of  the 
road  while  the  few  pieces  of  artillery  roll  rapidly  down  the  centre.  An- 
other party  of  cavalry  at  full  speed  rushes  eastward  over  the  level  fields. 
All  restraint  as  to  noise  is  removed,  for  speed,  and  not  silence,  is  now 
the  aim.  Then  followed  an  exciting  scene.  The  scream  of  a locomotive 
—the  regular  eastward  train  to  Chattanooga — rises  shrill  on  the  morning 
air.  The  engineer  sees  the  army,  and  stops  for  a moment  only,  then 
presses  on  under  full  steam.  One  cannon  is  thrown  into  position — the 
mark  is  large  but  the  distance  great,  and  the  time  short ! The  cannon 
booms,  and  the  locomotive  answers  with  a defiant  scream — unhurt ! and 
goes  roaring  and  rattling  away  among  the  hills.  One  train  has  escaped  ! 
Another  locomotive  follows,  but  the  second  gunner  is  ready  with  better 
aim.  Another  long  range  shot  and  the  engine  is  disabled  and  the  engineer 
killed.  Now  the  cavalry  have  reached  the  track  and  there  can  be  no  more 
escape  for  the  valuable  engines  shut  up  in  the  enemy’s  town. 

But  the  third  party,  accompanied  by  Gen.  Mitchel  himself,  have  not 
checked  their  horses  to  see  the  result  of  this  duel  between  cannon  and 
locomotives.  They  gallop  at  breakneck  speed  into  Huntsville,  followed 
fast  by  the  infantry,  who  have  now  forgotten  all  weariness,  as  soldiers  will 
when  the  sound  of  guns  is  heard.  If  any  enemy  is  in  the  town  he  must 
be  given  no  time  to  rally;  if  not,  all  property  must  be  saved,  and  at  the 
telegraph  office  secrets  of  the  enemy  may  be  found  of  greatest  value. 
Citizens  are  roused  from  their  morning  slumbers,  and  doors  and  windows 
are  thrown  open,  while  the  cry  goes  up  from  a thousand  voices,  “The 
Yankees  are  coming. “ Men  rush  into  the  streets  almost  naked,  women 
faint,  and  children  scream,  while  the  negroes  laugh,  because  it  is  only 
what  they  have  long  been  hoping  and  praying  for  ! 

Fifteen  locomotives  and  eighty  cars,"  two  southern  mads,  all  the  tele- 
graphic apparatus,  and  one  cypher  message  of  priceless  value — if  it  could 
be  read  — were  captured.  There  was  no  key  to  the  cypher,  but  Mitchel  s 
wide  knowledge  came  to  his  aid.  He  understood  the  principles  on  which 
cyphers  were  made;  and  laying  it  on  the  table  and  calling  some  of  the 
young  men  of  his  staff  to  his  aid,  they  soon  made  it  give  up  its  secret — 
when  lo  ! an  appeal  from  Beauregard  at  Corinth  to  the  rebel  Secretary  of 
War  for  help  ! giving  the  exact  number  of  his  effective  men,  and  stating 
that  he  was  utterly  unable  to  resist  an  advance  in  force  by  the  Union 
army!  Thiswas  dated  April  9 ^ — only  two  days  before— and  as  Hunts- 
ville was  a repeating  station,  it  had  been  copied,  and  the  paper,  which 
looked  like  a jumble  of  nonsense,  was  left  lying  on  the  desk.  It  was  sent 
at  once  to  Buell  and  Halleck,  and  if  they  had  been  energetic  soldiers,  it 


^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  page  641. 
* War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  618. 


92 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


would  have  sealed  the  doom  of  the  rebel  army  at  Corinth  ! But  against 
stupidity,  it  is  said  that  even  the  gods  fight  in  vain  ! The  despatch  was 
only  published  in  the  Northern  papers,  and  gave  the  Confederate  War 
Department  great  trouble  and  perplexity,  in  trying  to  make  out  how  it 
could  possibly  have  been  obtained  and  deciphered." 

But  Mitcheks  work  was  not  finished.  The  capture  of  Huntsville 
would  be  almost  valueless  if  he  did  nothing  more.  At  once  he  reorganized 
the  railroad  management,  and  spent  the  day  in  getting  ready  two  other 
expeditions — this  time  by  rail,  where  danger  might  be  greater  but  hard- 
ships to  the  soldiers  would  be  far  less.  Whether  the  first  suggestion  of 
running  a train  of  cars  through  an  enemy’s  country  while  they  were  sur- 
prised and  deceived  as  to  its  character,  came  first  from  Andrews  in  his 
proposed  railroad  expedition,  we  do  not  know. 

The  first  expedition  now  planned  consisted  of  a single  regiment.  This 
was  placed  on  a train  at  six  o’clock  in  the  evening,  and  steamed  slowly 
westward  to  save  the  Decatur  bridge,  and  if  possible  to  open  communica- 
tion with  Buell,  by  means  of  which  a part  of  that  army,  which  was  now 
clearly  not  needed  at  Shiloh^  (unless  for  an  immediate  attack),  might  be 
used  for  great  enterprises  eastward.  This  expedition  was  perfectly  suc- 
cessful. 

But  to  the  east  there  were  greater  obstacles.  The  distance,  even  if 
Mitchel  only  advanced  to  Stevenson,  was  greater,  being  some  seventy 
miles,  while  to  Decatur  was  only  twenty-five;  and  the  train  which  had 
escaped  would  naturally  warn  the  enemy  that  some  kind  of  a demonstra- 
tion was  being  made  at  Huntsville,  though  they  could  not  know  whether 
it  was  only  a dashing  raid,  or  an  advance  in  force.  But  another  matter 
in  which  Mitchel  was  still  more  interested  might  either  be  of  the  greatest 
help  or  a serious  hindrance.  The  Andrews  party  he  had  sent  into  Georgia, 
would  early  this  day,  if  on  time,  start  toward  Huntsville;  and  Mitchel 
could  not  on  Friday  have  forgotten  the  men  who  had  been  picked  from  a 
whole  brigade  for  desperate  service  on  Monday.  They  could  not  reach 
Huntsville  before  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  but  if  they  came  then  and 
had  succeeded  in  burning  the  Chickamauga  bridges,  all  his  work  and  the 
grandest  opportunity  of  the  war  would  lie  clear  before  him.  They  would 
bear  exact  information  of  the  number  and  condition  of  the  enemy’s  troops 
all  along  the  line,  and  the  state  of  the  road  over  which  they  had  passed. 
Then  he  could  load  his  trains,  using  perhaps  one  of  Andrews’s  engineers, 
and  run,  not  simply  to  Stevenson  or  Bridgeport,  but  to  Chattanooga  at 
once;  then  with  railroad  communications  opened  with  Halleck  and  Buell, 
and  also  with  Nashville  and  the  North; — with  Beauregard  despairing  and 
demoralized  at  Corinth;  with  Lee  outnumbered  in  the  East;  with  the  sea- 


^ War  Records,  Series  L,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  439. 

* In  the  captured  despatch  Beauregard  said  he  had  but  35,000  men. 


The  Bloodless  Victories  of  MitcheL 


93 


coast  towns  from  which  the  rebels  alone  could  draw  any  immediate  supply 
of  men,  cut  off  by  the  burning  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  bridges; — what 
might  not  be  hoped  ? The  right  use  of  the  Western  army  would  then  end 
the  war  in  a few  weeks  ! It  was  such  considerations  that  prompted  Judge 
Holt  to  say/  “ The  expedition  itself,  in  the  daring  of  its  conception,  had 
the  wildness  of  a romance,  while  in  the  gigantic  and  overwhelming  results 
which  it  sought  and  was  likely  to  accomplish,  it  was  absolutely  sublime. 
:jc  4:  whole  uspect  of  the  War  in  the  South  and  Southwest 

would  have  been  at  once  changed;^’  and  also  led  the  Atlanta  “ Southern 
Confederacy’^  of  April  15,  1862,  to  exclaim,^  “It  is  not  by  any  means 
certain  that  the  annihilation  of  Beauregard’s  whole  army  at  Corinth  would 
be  so  fatal  a blow  to  us  as  would  have  been  the  burning  of  these  bridges 
at  that  time  by  these  men.” 

But  alas  ! on  that  Friday^  when  the  whole  road  from  Chattanooga  west- 
ward would  have  been  open  for  us,  and  while  Mitchel  and  his  heroic  army 
would  make  all  the  hills  of  Huntsville  ring  with  cheers  over  our  arrival, 
we  were  only  going  toward  our  destination  as  ordinary  passengers,  with  all 
our  work  still  to  do!  However,  it  was  not  yet  too  late  for  all  the  conse- 
quences described,  if  the  work  was  still  done;  but  Mitchel,  in  running 
eastward,  would  need  to  go  very  slowly,  with  a sharp  lookout  lest  he 
should  encounter  our  belated  train.  He  could  go  to  meet  us,  and  at  the 
same  time  hold  the  railroad  according  to  his  original  plan — though  without 
news  from  us,  he  would  not  wish  to  venture  beyond  Bridgeport.  It  was 
hardly  an  accident  that  Gen.  Silks  Brigade — that  from  which  the  Andrews 
party  had  been  selected — was  chosen  for  this  service  The  troops,  per- 
fectly equipped,  were  loaded  on  long  flat  cars  with  low  sides,  that  there 
might  be  no  obstacle  to  their  firing  immediately  or  debarking  to  meet  a 
foe.  Two  cannon  mounted  on  a flat  car  pointed  diagonally  ahead  on  each 
side  of  the  locomotive  and  were  at  least  formidable  in  appearance. 

When  every  preparation  had  been  completed,  long  after  dark,^  the 
train,  with  2000  men  on  board,  and  Mitchel  himself  stationed  with  the 
engineer,  moved  silently  from  Huntsville  on  its  perilous  way.  No  other 
such  advance  over  an  enemy’s  railroad  directly  into  an  enemy’s  country 
was  ever  made  during  this  or  any  other  war.  It  was  a perilous 
novelty.  The  progress  was  necessarily  very  slow.  With  a clear  track 
the  seventy  miles  to  Stevenson  might  easily  be  made  in  two  hours;  but 
nearly  five  times  that  long  was  required.  At  every  bend  an  ambush 
might  be  found,  or  an  armed  train,  sent  out  by  the  rebels  to  learn  why  no 


* War  Records,  Series  I.,VoI.  X.,  Part  i,  page  631. 

^ Ibid. 

3 There  is  a great  apparent  discrepancy  in  the  date  of  this  expedition,  sortie  accounts 
placing  it  on  the  nth,  others  on  the  12th.  Probably  it  started  near  midnight,  Friday 
evening  or  Saturday  morning. 


94 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Gen.  Mitchel’s  Armed  Train. 


The  Bloodless.  Victories  of  MitcheL 


95 


trains  or  telegrams  came  from  Huntsville,  might  bear  down  upon  them, 
and  cause  a frightful  accident.  The  Andrews  party  might  yet  come,  fol- 
lowed by  a rebel  train — in  short  the  unknown  road  before  them  was  full 
of  alarming  possibilities.  A timid  General  would  never  have  undertaken 
such  a run.  He  would  have  preferred  to  advance  on  foot,  or  at  least  to 
keep  cavalry  guards  ahead  of  the  train,  and  in  consequence  would  have  en- 
countered far  more  real  danger. 

On  the  m.orning  of  April  12,  the  little  division  of  Mitchel  presented, — 
had  an  eye  been  able  to  look  over  all  the  military  field — an  imposing  spec- 
tacle, such  as  no  equal  body  of  men  afforded  during  the  war.  They  wc^jt^ 
spread  over  more  than  two  hundred  miles  of  railroad.  The  Andrews 
party  had  captured  their  train  and  were  running  northward  toward  Chatta- 
nooga; another  portion  were  far  to  the  west,  pressing  on  toward  Decatur 
and  Tuscumbia,  two-thirds  of  the  way  from  Huntsville  to  Buell’s  army;  a 
stronger  detachment  was  running  eastward  toward  Chattanooga,  certain  to 
reach  that  point  if  the  north-bound  train  did  its  work;  while  the  remainder 
of  the  division  which  had  been  left  behind  on  the  forced  march,  was  clos- 
ing up,  overland,  to  Huntsville  ! Such  unparalleled  activity  showed  that 
one  commander  at  least  wanted  to  finish  the  war. 

All  obstacles  were  surmounted  by  the  train  which  bore  Sill’s  brigade, 
and  early  in  the  afternoon  it  drew  near  to  Stevenson.  Still  no  word 
of  the  Andrews  train,  which  had  been  having  a day  of  wild  adventure  and 
terrible  vicissitudes  of  fortune  far  beyond  that  which  came  to  any  of  the 
other  railroad  parties  ! At  Stevenson  there  were  2000  of  the  enemy,  but 
these  fled  in  all  haste  on  Mitchel’s  coming,  without  firing  a gun. 

Mitchel  remained  a short  time  securing  the  six  additional  loco- 
motives found  at  Stevenson,  and  then,  getting  aboard  the  train,  steamed 
seven  miles  further  to  Widden’s  Creek. ^ This  was  the  extreme  point  of 
his  advance.  Here  he  waited  and  pondered  the  situation.  If  Andrews 
had  finished  his  work  on  Friday  he  would  have  reached  Huntsville  the 
same  day.  Even  if  he  had  burned  his  bridges  on  Saturday,  it  was  now 
past  time  for  him  to  have  reported  at  this  advanced  post.  It  would  not  be 
prudent  for  Mitchel,  in  the  absence  of  any  intelligence,  to  advance  further, 
at  least  until  his  western  expedition  had  fully  accomplished  its  work  of 
joining  communication  with  Buell.  He  could  easily  go  on  four  miles 
further  and  reach  the  Tennessee  River;  but  there  was  great  danger  that 
if  he  went  that  far,  and  then  did  not  at  once  rush  on  and  over  the  bridge, 
that  the  enemy  would  be  alarmed,  and  burn  it,  which  he  was  very  anxious 
to  prevent,  as  he  says  (letter  to  Chase,  April  21,  1862),  “I  spared  the 
Tennessee  bridges  in  the  hope  that  I might  be  permitted  to  march  on 
Chattanooga  and  Knoxville. ^ He  also  says  in  his  original  report  to  Gen. 

* E.  Kirby  Smith’s  Report,  Series  I.,  War  Records,  Vol.  X.,  Part  I,  page  643, 

* War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol,'  X.,  Part  2,  page  115. 


96 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


Buell,  April  12  (by  mistake  dated  April  ii),  “I  also  ordered  the  destruc- 
tion of  a small  bridge  between  Stevenson  and  Bridgeport,  which  we  can 
replace,  if  necessary,  in  a single  day;  " and  adds  on  April  29th  his  strong 
desire  to  strike  a blow  at  Chattanooga,  for  which  purpose  he  had  spared 
the  Tennessee  bridge. • 

From  these  dispatches  we  can  almost  watch  the  operations  of  Mitchel's 
mind  as  he  paused  at  this  bridge.  By  burning  it,  the  enemy  would  think 
that  he  meant  to  go  no  further,  and  would  spare  the  great  bridges  over 
the  Tennessee,  which  would  thus  be  ready  for  his  use  as  soon  as  he  should 
need  them;  if  Andrews  still  came,  he  with  his  party  could  cross  those 
bridges,  and  their  engine  be  either  abandoned,  destroyed  or  left  there 
until  this  bridge,  “ in  a single  day/'  had  been  rebuilt. 

At  length,  feeling  that  further  delay  was  useless,  Mitchel  ordered  com- 
bustibles placed  under  the  bridge  at  Widden's  Creek,  and' the  fire  to  be 
kindled.  He  watched  the  rising  flames  for  a time,  and  then  turned  away. 
It  was  the  culmination  of  his  own  star,  which  from  that  time  began  to  pale. 
He  rendered  excellent  service  to  the  country  afterward,  but  from  the  hour 
in  which  he  turned  back  on  the  road  to  Chattanooga,  his  opportunity  to 
become  the  great  general  of  the  war  ended.  The  fault  was  not  his  own, 
but  the  result  was  none  the  less  sure. 


‘ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  page  642. 
* War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  619. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CAPTURE  OF  THE  TRAIN. 

There  was  a great  panic  in  Chattanooga  on  Friday,  April  nth.  The 
day  before,  Gen.  Maxey,  who  had  commanded  at  Chattanooga,  was 
sent  to  Corinth  with  three  regiments  and  a battalion.  These  just 
succeeded  in  getting  by  before  the  capture  of  Huntsville.  Only  four  regi- 
ments were  now  within  reach — two  at  Bridgeport  and  two,  one  of  which 
had  not  yet  been  armed,  at  Chattanooga.  This  great  diminution  of  force, 
with  the  changes  it  required,  was  the  probable  reason  for  our  party  finding 
no  guard  at  the  ferry  when  we  crossed  at  Chattanooga  on  the  nth. 
There  was  a regiment  at  Dalton,  som6  three  or  four  at  Big  Shanty,,  and 
six  more  somewhere  on  the  way  from  Charleston.  But  all  these  except 
those  at  Bridgeport  and  Chattanooga  could  be  brought  up  only  by  the  line 
of  railroad  connecting  with  Atlanta.  The  slender  and  partly  unarmed 
garrison  of  perfectly  raw  troops  was  under  the  command  of  Gen.  Lead- 
better,  a man  whose  only  celebrity  was  in  the  terrible  cruelties  he  had  in- 
flicted on  the  Unionists  of  East  Tennessee,  many  of  whom  had  been 
hanged  by  him  with  scarcely  the  form  of  a trial,  and  multitudes  of  others 
subjected  to  the  most  barbarous  imprisonment.  He  soon  came  to  be  as 
much  despised  by  the  Confederates  for  his  cowardice  as  he  was  hated  for 
his  cruelty  by  the  Union  people. 

The  train  which  had  escaped  Mitchel  at  Huntsville,  Friday  morning, 
arrived  at  Chattanooga  about  noon.  They  could  only  say  that  they  had 
been  fired  on  by  artillery,  and  had  seen  charging  cavalry.  From  their 
story  it  did  not  appear  whether  a lodgment  had  been  effected  on  the  line 
of  the  road  or  not;  and  the  opinion  was  general  that  nothing  more  than  a 
dashing  raid  for  the  destruction  of  property  was  intended.  But  telegra- 
phic communications  were  interrupted;  no  more  trains  came  in,  and  none 
were  suffered  to  go  out  until  definite  intelligence  could  be  received. 
Toward  evening  the  excitement  increased,  though  the  officials  tried  as 
much  as  possible  to  prevent  knowledge  of  the  trouble  from  getting  among 
the  people.  Soon  additional  offices  were  cut  off  from  the  telegraph  line; 
and  the  military  authorities  promptly  made  arrangements  for  removing 
valuable  stores  from  the  city,  lest  the  enemy  should  suddenly  sweep  upon 
it  as  he  evidently  had  done  upon  Huntsville. 

7 


98 


Darifig  a7id  Suffermg, 


It  is  interesting  to  consider  what  would  have  happened  if  Mitchel  with- 
out 7vaitmg  for  his  raiders  had  pushed  on  to  Chattanooga  the  next  day. 
Gen.  Smith  has  expressed  the  opinion  that  he  might  as  well  have  done  so 
as  not,  “If  he  had  not  been  too  timid  ! The  full  published  reports  en- 
able us  at  this  distance  of  time  to  understand  the  situation  as  neither 
Mitchel  nor  Smith  did  then. 

Mitchel  was  advancing  with  two  thousand  choice  troops,  thoroughly 
disciplined  and  organized.  For  the  present,  this  was  about  all  that  could 
have  been  spared  from  other  parts  of  his  line.  He  would  have  met  at 
Chattanooga,  or  on  the  way,  four  regiments  commanded  by  a coward,  all 
raw,  and  one  of  them  armed  only  with  squirrel  rifles  and  shot  guns.  The 
result  of  the  first  onset  would  not  have  been  for  a moment  doubtful,  and  on 
Sunday  Mitchel  would  have  possessed  Chattanooga.  But  all  of  the  enemy 
who  escaped  would  then  have  been  reinforced  by  the  six"  regiments  that 
Beauregard  had  telegraphed  as  being  on  the  way  from  Charleston  to  Chat- 
tanooga; four  or  five  more  scattered  along  the  road  from  Atlanta;  and 
four  which  Smith  says  could  have  been  spared  from  East  Tennessee  for 
offensive  operations.  Some  sixteen  or  eighteen  regiments  could  have 
gathered  around  the  little  band  of  Ohioans  within  two  days,  and  have  se- 
lected their  point  of  attack — either  at  Chattanooga,  or  anywhere  on  the 
line  of  communications  toward  Bridgeport,  or  beyond.  The  highest  gen- 
ius could  scarcely  have  saved  Mitchel,  or  have  secured  time  for  the  slow 
help  of  Gen.  Buell. 

But  with  the  Oostenaula  and  Chickamauga  bridges  of  the  Western  and 
Atlantic,  and  the  Chickamauga  bridge  of  the  East  Tennessee  Railroad 
burned,  all  this  is  changed.  All  the  regiments  from  the  sea-coast  and  Big 
Shanty  would  then  be  stopped  fifty  miles  away.  Smith  and  his  four  reg- 
iments could  not  come  nearer  by  rail  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  of  Chat- 
tanooga. They  could  form  no  junction  with  the  other  regiments,  and 
could  attack  in  one  direction  only.  Thus  Mitchel  would  have  time  to  bring 
up  his  own  reserve  force  of  five  or  six  thousand,  join  hands  with  Buell  at 
Corinth,  and  with  all  the  forces  of  the  North  at  Nashville;  and  if  the  South 
chose  to  further  reinforce,  and  make  the  final  issue  of  the  war  to  be  deter- 
mined around  Chattanooga,  the  Federals  would  have  no  reason  to  com- 
plain. But  enough  of  military  speculation  as  to  what  might  have  been  ! 

The  Andrews  party  were  greatly  crowded  in  the  large  hotel  at  Marietta 
on  Friday  night,  having  to  sleep  three  or  four  to  a bed,  but  soldiers  are  not 
fastidious,  and  the  greater  number  slept  soundly.  We  had  unbounded 
confidence  in  our  leader,  whose  part  it  was  to  provide  for  all  contingencies. 

Andrews  scarcely  slept  at  all  that  night.  He  first  went  to  the  hotel 
and  saw  that  those  who  lodged  there  had  made  arrangements  for  being 

^ Official  Report  of  E.  Kirby  Smith,  April  13th,  1862. — War  Records,  Series  I., 
Vol.  X.,  Part  I,  page  643. 


Capture  of  the  Train. 


99 


^]sr  E S S E /E, 


tGA_. 


I 


^Ringgold 

J& 


m 


%Mo 


, w 

Reseca^ 

m 

I? 


m 


Ad, 


ROME 


called  on  time  in  the 
Porter  and  Hawkins,  who  had 
come  down  the  evening  before, 
and  had  gone  to  bed  much  earlier, 
were  not  seen,  and  as  they  had  not 
paid  the  waiter  any  fee  for  rousing 
them  early,  they  were  left  behind; 
a diminution  of  our  force  much 
regretted,  as  they  were  both  brave 
men  and  Hawkins  was  an  expe- 
rienced engineer.  This  left  us  but 
nineteen  men  out  of  the  thirty 
that,  I judge,  had  been  originally 
selected. 

We  were  all  roused  promptly 
at  the  railroad  hotel,  a little  be- 
fore daybreak.  Andrews,  who 
came  back  to  us,  now  went  from 
room  to  room  while  we  were  dress- 
ing, seeing  every  man,  giving  him 
exact  orders  as  to  his  part  in  the 
work  of  the  morning.  There  was 
suppressed  fire  in  his  low,  almost 
whispered  words,  a calm  confi- 
dence in  his  tones  that  was  con- 


\ 


o Cassville 


[Cass  Statioir 


Cartersvill^ 


The  Western  and  Atlantic,  or  Georgia 
Railroad. 


State 


i^toWaK' 

fVSu., 


Big  SHaniy 


KENNESA'W  ^ 


tagious.  There  seemed  to  be  no 
doubt,  hesitation,  or  shrinking  on  his 
part,  but,  on  the  contrary,  an  eagerness 
and  jov  that  the  time  was  so  near  at 
hand. 

When  we  were  ready,  as  it  still  lacked  a 
little  of  train  time,  we  gathered  in  Andrews’s 
room  for  an  informal  council  of  war.  Some 
were  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  one  or  two  on 
chairs,  and  the  remainder  stood  around  as  best  they 
could.  We  did  not  speak  very  loud  as  we  wished  no 
sharers  in  our  plans.  Andrews  gave  no  exhortations — 


A 


Marietta 


.MfC  RAES  HILt^ 


O' 

u 

ATLANTA! 


V 


lOO  Daring  and  Suffering, 

the  time  for  that  had  passed — but  rather  cautions  to  prevent  too  precipiw 
tate  action.  He  said: 

“When  the  train  stops  at  Big  Shanty  for  breakfast,  keep  your  places 
till  I tell  you  to  go.  Get  seats  near  each  other  in  the  same  car,  and 
say  nothing  about  the  matter  on  the  way  up.  If  anything  unexpected 
occurs,  look  to  me  for  the  word.  You  and  you,^’ — designating  the  men, 
— “will  go  with  me  on  the  engine;  all  the  rest  will  go  on  the  left  of  the 
train  forward  of  where  it  is  uncoupled,  and  climb  on  the  cars  in  the  best 


Bed-room  Consultation  at  Marietta. 


places  you  can,  when  the  order  is  given.  If  anybody  interferes,  shoot 
him,  but  don't  fire  until  it  is  necessary.’^ 

Sergeant  Major  Ross,  the  ranking  man  of  the  party,  and  as  brave  as 
any,  offered  a respectful  protest  against  going  further.  He  said  that 
circumstances  had  changed  since  we  set  out;  that  it  was  a day  later  than 
planned;  that  many  more  troops  were  at  Big  Shanty  than  formerly;  that 
we  had  noticed  the  crowded  state  of  the  road  as  we  came  down,  and  that 
Mitchel's  movements  would  make  the  matter  worse.  For  all  these  rea- 
sons he  thought  it  better  to  put  off  the  attempt,  or  give  it  up  altogether. 


Capture  of  the  Train, 


lOl 


Our  heads  were  very  close  together  as  we  talked,  and  the  words  softly 
spoken;  the  door  was  locked,  and  the  windows  overlooked  the  railroad,  so 
that  we  were  sure  to  see  the  train  coming.  Andrews  very  quietly  answered 
the  objections  of  Ross,  admitting  all  the  facts  he  stated,  but  claiming  that 
they  only  showed  our  way  the  clearer.  The  military  excitement  and  com- 
motion, and  the  number  of  trains  on  the  road  would  make  our  train  the 
less  likely  to  be  suspected;  and  as  to  the  troops  at  Big  Shanty,  if  we  did 
our  work  promptly,  they  would  have  no  chance  to  interfere.  Capturing 
the  train  in  the  camp  would  be  easier  than  anywhere  else,  because  no  one 
would  believe  it  possible,  and  there  would  therefore  be  no  guard. 

Andrews  could  always  find  a reason  for  everything;  but  these  plausible 
arguments  were  not  perfectly  convincing.  Several  others,  among  whom 
was  J.  A.  Wilson,  joined  in  a respectful  protest  against  proceeding.  Then 
Andrews,  speaking  even  lower,  as  was  his  wont  when  strongly  moved,  said: 

“ Boys,  I fried  this  once  before  and  failed;  now,  I will  succeed  or  leave 
my  bones  in  Dixie.” 

The  words  and  manner  thrilled  every  hearer,  and  we  assured  him  that 
we  would  stand  by  him,  and,  if  need  be,  die  with  him.  He  grasped  oGr 
hands  and  we  hurried  to  the  platform,  for  the  train  was  now  almost  due. 
I had  said  nothing  in  the  discussion,  for  I felt  that  we  were  under  the  lead- 
ership of  Andrews,  and  should  simply  obey,  leaving  the  responsibility  to 
rest  on  him.  I am  not  sure  that,  on  a later  critical  occasion,  we  did  not 
carry  this  principle  a little  too  far. 

Although  we  only  needed  tickets  to  Big  Shanty,  we  purchased  them  to 
various  points  along  the  line  that  attention  might  not  be  attracted  by  such 
a number  bound  to  one  place.  As  the  train  came  up,  we  noticed  three 
closed  box-cars  attached.  Every  passenger  train,  as  I have  since  been 
informed  by  Conductor  Fuller,  was  at  this  time  required  to  carry  empty 
cars  northward  which  were  brought  back  filled  with  bacon  and  other  pro- 
visions, vast  quantities  of  which  were  then  being  gleaned  out  of  Tennessee 
and  stored  in  Atlanta.  We  all  took  our  places  close  together  in  one  car, 
that  we  might  be  ready  to  help  each  other  in  case  of  need.  Knight  sat 
near  the  front  door,  and  says  that  on  looking  back  he  saw  that  most  of 
our  men  were  pale  yet  resolute.  The  passengers  had  that  listless  and 
weary  air  always  seen  in  the  early  morning  on  board  a train. 

The  conductor,  whose  name  we  afterwards  learned  was  William  A. 
Fuller,  entered  and  began  to  take  the  tickets.  He  looked  narrowly  at 
us,  for  it  was  an  uncommon  thing  for  so  many  persons  to  enter  in  a body 
as  did  at  Marietta;  besides,  he  had  been  warned  very  recently  to  watch  that 
no  conscripts  used  his  train  for  the  purpose  of  escaping,  and  ordered,  in 
case  of  suspicion,  to  telegraph  for  help  at  once.  No  doubt  we  looked 
soldierly  enough,  but  he  afterwards  told  me  that  he  did  not  suspect  us  of 
being  conscripts.  We  also  scrutinized  him.  carefully,  for  it  was  possible 


102 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


that  he  might,  if  his  suspicions  were  in  the  least  aroused,  endeavor  to 
prevent  us  from  taking  his  train. 

He  was  quite  young  for  a conductor,  being,  as  we  afterward  learned,  ^ 
only  twenty-six,  though  he  had  been  for  seven  years  in  that  position. 
He  had  a frank,  genial,  but  resolute  face,  was  of  medium  size,  and  looked 
active  and  strong. 

We  had  little  leisure  for  looking  at  the  grand  form  of  Kenesaw  moun- 
tain, which  rose  on  our  left,  and  around  the  base  of  which  the  road  de- 
scribes almost  a half  circle,  and 
then  turns  away  before  it  reaches 
Big  Shanty.  Here  was  fought  one 
of  the  severest  battles  of  the  war 
between  Sherman  and  Johnston; 
but  this,  with  their  prolonged 
struggle  over  the  whole  line  of  this 
railway,  did  not  come  until  two  ^ 
years  later.  The  question  of  deep- 
est interest  to  us,  and  one  which 
would  be  quickly  solved  was, 

“ How  much  of  a fight  will  we 
have  at  Big  Shanty?  If  the  train 
is  left  guarded  during  breakfast  , 
time  we  will  have  to  overcome  the 
guards;  if  anybody  sees  us  going 
on  the  engine,  and  a rush  is  made 
to  prevent,  we  will  have  to  fight 

Captain  Wm.  A.  Fuller.  From  a war-time  photograph.  i i j ^ i i. 

^ ^ sharply  and  at  close  quarters — the 

most  deadly  kind  of  fighting.'’  Every  revolver  had  been  carefully  exam- 
ined at  Marietta  before  we  slept,  and  every  preparation  made,  so  there  * 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait  as  patiently  as  we  could. 

It  was  a thrilling  moment  when  the  conductor  called  out,  ‘‘  Big  Shanty  ! 
twenty  minutes  for  breakfast  ! ” and  we  could  see  the  white  tents  of  the 
rebel  troops  and  even  the  guards  slowly  pacing  their  beats.  Big  Shanty 
(now  called  Kenesaw)  had  been  selected  for  the  seizure  because  it  was  a 
breakfast  station,  and  because  it  had  no  telegraph  office.  When  Andrews  * 
had  been  here  on  the  previous  expedition,  few  troops  were  seen,  but  the 
number  was  now  greatly  increased.  It  is  difficult  to  tell  just  how  many 
were  actually  here,  for  they  were  constantly  coming  and  going;  but  there 
seems  to  have  been  three  or  four  regiments,  numbering  not  far  from  a 
thousand  men  each.  Tney  were  encamped  almost  entirely  on  the  west 
side  of  the  road,  but  their  camp  guard  included  the  railroad  depot.  As  ^ 
soon  as  the  train  stopped,  the  conductor,  engineer,  fireman,  and  most  of 
the  passengers  hurried  for  breakfast  into  the  long  low  shed  on  the  east 


Capture  of  the  Train, 


103 


side  of  the  road,  which  gave  the  place  its  name.  No  guard  whatever  was 
left — a fortunate  circumstance  for  us,  but  not  at  all  unusual  on  Southern 
roads  even  when  not  so  well  guarded  by  soldiers  as  this  train  was.  Now 
was  our  opportunity  ! yet  for  a moment  we  were  compelled  to  keep  our 
seats  and  wait  the  appointed  signal  by  our  leader.  It  required  a strong 
effort  of  will  to  keep  from  rushing  forward.  We  had  no  desire  for  eating 
as  we  saw  the  passengers  leaving  their  seats  around  us  and  pouring  in  to 
breakfast.  The  moments  seemed  hours;  for  we  knew  that  when  the 
signal  was  given,  we  must  do  our  work  in  less  than  half  a minute  or  be 
slaughtered  on  the  spot;  we  also  knew  that  any  one  of  us  who  failed  to 
get  on  board  with  the  rest  would  be  lost;  but  we  did  not  know  how  long 
during  the  twenty  minutes  Andrews  would  wait.  If  anything  could  be 
gained  by  waiting  five  or  ten  minutes  we  were  sure  that  he,  with  his  mar- 
vellous coolness,  would  wait  and  expect  us  to  do  the  same.  It  seemed 
already  a considerable  interval,  for  the  last  passenger  who  wanted  break- 
fast had  left  the  train  and  disappeared  within  the  room. 

But  Andrews  did  not  mean  delay.  He  had  been  absent  from  the  car 
for  a time  as  we  came  up  the  road  and  had  only  just  returned,  and  taken 
his  seat  close  to  the  door.  Now  he  quietly  rose,  and  without  turning  his 
head  toward  us,  stepped  to  the  door  with  the  crowd  that  was  pouring  out. 
Engineer  Knight,  whether  from  natural  impulsiveness,  or  at  a signal  from 
Andrews,  rose  also  and  went  out  with  him.  These  two  got  off  on  the  side 
next  to  the  camp,  and  opposite  the  depot.  They  walked  forward  at  an 
ordinary  pace  until  abreast  of  the  locomotive,  which  they  saw  at  a glance 
to  be  vacant — engineer  and  fireman  had  gone  to  breakfast.  That  was 
very  good  ! Andrews  walked  a few  steps  further  forward  with  Knight 
still  at  his  side,  until  he  could  see  ahead  of  the  engine  that  the  track  was 
clear  as  far  as  a curve  a little  way  up  the  road  which  closed  the  view. 
Then  they  turned  and  walked  back  until  just  in  advance  of  the  first  bag- 
gage car  and  behind  the  three  empty  freight  cars,  when  Andrews  said  with 
a nod,  “ Uncouple  here  and  wait  for  me.”  Knight  drew  out  the  pin  and 
carefully  laid  it  on  the  draw  bar.  Andrews  came  back  to  the  door  of  our 
car  and  opening  the  door,  said  in  his  ordinary  tone,  not  a shade  louder  or 
more  hurried  than  usual,  “Come  on,  boys;  it  is  time  to  go  now.”  Our 
hearts  gave  a great  bound  at  the  word,  but  we  rose  quietly  and  followecV 
him.  Nothing  in  this  was  likely  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  few  pas- 
sengers who  still  remained  in  the  car;  but  it  mattered  little,  for  the  time 
of  concealment  was  now  past.  Andrews  glided  forward  very  swiftly,  and 
Knight,  seeing  him  coming,  hurried  on  before  and  jumped  on  the  engine, 
where  he  at  once  cut  the  bell -rope  and,  seizing  the  throttle  bar,  stood  lean- 
ing forward  with  tense  muscles,  and  eye  fixed  on  the  face  of  his  leader. 

Andrews  did  not  follow,  but  stood  a step  back  from  the  locomotive 
with  one  hand  on  the  rail,  looking  at  his  men  as  they  ran  forward.  Brown 


Seizing  the  Train. 


Capture  of  the  Tram, 


105 


and  Wilson  (the  other  engineer  and  fireman)  darted  forward  at  the  top  of 
their  speed  and  took  their  post  beside  Knight  on  the  engine.  As  soon  as 
the  rest  of  us  reached  the  hindmost  box-car  we  saw  that  its  door  was  wide 
open.  Whether  this  was  a mere  happy  accident,  or  whether,  as  is  more 
likely,  Andrews  had  gone  forward  before  we  reached  the  station  and 
opened  it,  with  his  usual  audacity,  I do  not  know.  But  he  motioned  with 
his  hand  to  us  saying,  “ Get  in  ! Get  in  ! We  needed  no  urging.  The 
floor  was  breast  high,  but  the  hindmost  shoved  and  lifted  the  foremost  and 
were  themselves  pulled  up  in  turn.  I helped  to  throw  Shadrack  up  and 
had  my  arm  almost  pulled  off  as  I was  dragged  in  by  him  a second  after. 
All  this  time  a sentry  was  standing  not  a dozen  feet  from  the"  engine  quietly 
watching,  as  if  this  was  the  most  ordinary  proceeding,  and  a number  of 
other  soldiers  were  idling  but  a short  distance  away.  They  had  not  made 
up  their  minds  what  to  say  or  do,  and  we  were  hidden  by  the  train  itself 
from  the  view  of  persons  at  the  depot.  The  first  report  of  the  Atlanta 
papers  speaks  of  four  men  only  as  taking  the  train — no  one  at  Big  Shanty 
seeming  to  notice  any  but  the  four  who  boarded  the  engine.  All  this 
work  was  of  seconds  only,  and  as  the  last  man  was  being  pulled  in, 
Andrews  stepped  on  board,  and  nodded  to  Knight,  who  had  never  taken 
his  eyes  from  his  face.  Quick  as  a flash  the  valve  was  thrown  open  and 
the  steam  giant  unchained  ! — but  for  an  instant  which  seemed  terribly  long 
the  locomotive  seemed  to  stand  still;  Knight  had  thrown  the  full  power 
on  too  suddenly,  and  the  wheels  slipped  on  the  track,  whirling  with  swift 
revolutions  and  the  hiss  of  escaping  steam,  before  the  inertia  of  the  pon- 
derous machine  could  be  overcome.  But  this  was  an  instant  only;  none 
of  the  soldiers  had  time  to  raise  their  muskets,  give  an  alarm,  or  indeed 
to  recover  from  their  stupor  before  the  wheels  bit,^'  and  the  train  shot 
away  as  if  fired  from  a cannon  ! 

We  were  now  flying  on  our  perilous  journey.  The  door  of  the  box- 
car was  pulled  shut  to  guard  against  any  shot  that  might  be  fired,  and 
while  partially  opened  afterwards  to  give  us  some  view  of  what  was  passing, 
it  was  always  closed  again  whenever  we  neared  a station.' 

This  capture  was  a wonderful  triumph.  To  seize  a train  of  cars  in  an 
enemy’s  camp,  surrounded  by  thousands  of  soldiers,  and  carry  it  off  without 
a shot  fired  or  an  angry  gesture,  was  a marvellous  achievement.  There  are 
times  when  whole  years  of  intense  enjoyment  seem  condensed  into  a single 
moment.  It  was  so  with  us  then.  I could  comprehend  the  emotion  of 
Columbus  when  he  first  beheld,  through  the  dim  dawn,  the  long-dreamed- 
of  shores  of  America,  or  the  less  innocent  but  not  less  vivid  joy  of  Cortez 
when  he  lifted  the  cross  of  Spain  over  the  halls  of  the  Montezumas.  My 
heart  beat  fast  with  emotions  of  joy  and  gladness  that  words  labor  in  vain 
to  express.  It  was  a moment  of  rapture  such  as  will  never  return.  Not 
a dream  of  failure  cast  a shadow  over  us.  We  had  been  told  that  to  reach 


io6  Daring  and  Suffering, 

and  take  possession  of  the  train  would  be  difficult,  but  that  all  the  rest  of 
the  enterprise  would  be  easy.  It  would  have  been  on  the  day  originally 
fixed  ! 

Various  manifestations  of  triumph  were  made  as  soon  as  we  were  off. 
Dorsey  sprang  to  his  feet  crying,  “ Boys  ! we  are  done  playing  reb.  now  ! 
We  are  out-and-out  Yankees  from  this  time  on.”  But  Geo.  D.  Wilson, 
who  was  older  than  the  rest  of  us,  cautioned  him,  saying,  “ Don’t  be  too 
fast,  Dorsey;  we’re  not  out  of  the  woods  yet.” 

And  indeed  it  soon  seemed  as  if  we  were  to  have  serious  trouble  at  the 
outset.  The  engine  ran  slower  and  slower,  until  it  finally  came  to  a full  S 
stop.  We  were  not  yet  far  from  camp.  There  had  been  just  one  burst 

of  speed,  and  then  this  sickening 
and  alarming  failure  of  power. 
We  asked  eagerly  of  those  for- 
ward what  it  meant;  and  the  an- 
swer was  far  from  reassuring — ^ 
The  steam  has  gone  down.”  In 
a few  moments  we  learned  the 
reason.  The  dampers  were  closed 
on  the  engine  fires  when  the  stop 
for  Big  Shanty  was  made,  and 
they  were  not  opened  by  our  boys 
in  the  hurry  of  the  start;  conse- 
quently, the  fire  was  almost  out. 

A little  oil  and  some  fresh  wood 
promptly  mended  matters.  No 
time  was  lost  while  stopping  here 
in  this  enforced  manner,  for  we 
had  started  ahead  of  time,  and  i 
had  leisure  to  obstruct  the  track. 
The  telegraph  wire  was  also  cut. 
This  was  necessary,  for  though  there  was  no  office  at  Big  Shanty,  a 
portable  battery  might  be  found,  or  a swift  messenger  be  sent  back  to 
Marietta,  and  a single  lightning  flash  ahead  would  blight  our  fondest 
hopes.  Breaking  a wire  is  not  as  easy  as  it  seems;  but  we  adopted  a 
plan  which  worked  all  day,  and  took  up  no  time  that  was  not  also  utilized 
for  other  purposes.  John  Scott,  who  was  agile  as  a cat,  ran  up  the  pole,  ^ 
and  knocking  off  the  insulating  box  at  the  top,  swung  down  on  it.  A 
small  saw  found  on  the  engine  easily  cut  the  tightly  stretched  wire  close 
to  the  box.  This  did  not  take  more  than  one  or  two  minutes. 

At  this  first  stop,  Andrews,  who  had  not  shared  our  uneasiness  about 
the  fire  in  the  engine,  came  back  and  clasped  our  hands  in  ecstasy,  mani- 
festing more  excitement  than  I ever  saw  in  him  before;  exclaiming  that 


Capture  of  ike  Train. 


107 


we  had  the  enemy  now  at  such  disadvantage  that  he  could  not  harm  us  or 
save  himself.  “ When  we  have  passed  one  more  train/’  he  declared, “ we’ll 
have  no  hindrance,  and  then  we’ll  put  the  engine  at  full  speed,  burn  the 
bridges  after  us,  dash  through  Chattanooga,  and  on  to  Mitchel  at  Hunts- 
ville. We  have  the  upper  hand  of  the  rebels  for  once  ! ” 

By  saying  that  we  had  only  one  more  train  to  pass  before  doing  this, 
Andrews  did  not  mean  that  there  was  but  one  train  coming  toward  us. 
There  were  three,  which  had  already  left  Chattanooga;  but  only  the  first 
of  these,  a local  freight,  which  might  be  met  at  any  point  between  this  and 
Kingston, was  a real  obstacle.  Andrews  knew  the  time  schedule  of  the  other 
two,  and  could  plan  to  meet  them  at  any  given  station,  even  if  we  were  far 
ahead  of  our  own  time.  Had  there  been  none  but  these  three  trains,  his 
triumphing  would  have  been  well  warranted. 

The  following  is  the  basis  upon  which  Andrews  made  his  calculations: 
he  believed  that  no  engine  could  be  had  for  pursuit  nearer  to  Big  Shanty 
than  Kingston  on  the  north,  or  Atlanta  on  the  South,  each  about  thirty 
miles  distant.  If  the  rebels  pursued  toward  Kingston  the  best  they  could 
do  was  to  follow  us  on  fleet  horses,  and  the  time,  allowing  for  delay  in 
starting,  and  the  state  of  the  roads,  could  not  well  be  short  of  three  or 
four  hours,  by  which  time  we  ought  to  be  out  of  reach,  with  all  our  work 
done..  If  they  rode  or  sent  back  to  Marietta  (where  we  had  lodged  for 
the  night), which  would  seem  to  be  their  best  plan,  that  would  take  at  least 
an  hour;  then  a telegram  to  Atlanta  could  very  soon  start  a train  after 
us,  but  it  would  be  forty  or  fifty  miles  behind;  and  long  before  it  could 
come  up,  bridges  would  be  burned,  the  track  and  telegraph  cut,  arid  the 
road  completely  destroyed.  We  expected  to  run  on  our  regular  time  to 
Kingston,  which  would  thus  take  about  two  hours,  but  to  obstruct  the 
track  at  several  places  on  the  way;  then  with  the  local  freight  safely  passed, 
hurry  on  to  the  Oostenaula  (or  Resaca)  bridge  twenty-four  miles  further 
in  half  an  hour  more,  burn  that,  and  sweep  on  over  the  eleven  bridges  of 
the  Chickamauga,  and  leaving  them  in  flames  (also  the  one  of  the  East 
Tennessee  road,  over  the  same  stream),  pass  by  Chattanooga  on  the*“  Y” 
running  over  to  the  Memphis  and  Charleston  road,  and  press  as  rapidly 
as  possible  westward  to  Bridgeport,  and  on  to  Mitchel  wherever  he  might  be. 
It  will  be  seen  that  leaving  out  of  account  any  accident  to  our  train,  and 
any  difficulty  in  passing  the  trains  we  were  to  meet,  our  calculations  were 
almost  dead  certainties.  With  two  experienced  engineers,  and  caution  in 
lunning,  accidents  were  not  likely  to  occur;  and  Andrews  trusted  to  his 
own  marvelous  address  (and  not  vainly,  as  the  result  showed)  to  disarm 
suspicion  from  any  trains  met.  On  Friday,  so  far  as  human  vision  can 
now  penetrate,  these  calculations  would  have  worked  out  with  the  pre- 
cision of  a machine,  and  all  the  results  indicated  have  followed,  To-day 


io8 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


there  were  new  elements  which  were  to  task  our  powers  to  the  utmost,  but 
of  these  we  as  yet  knew  nothing. 

All  careful  and  prudent  preparations  were  now  made  for 'a  long  run. 
A red  flag  placed  on  the  last  car  showed  that  another  train  was  behind, 
and  served  as  a kind  of  silent  excuse  for  being  on  the  time  of  the  morn- 
ing mail.  The  engine  was  also  carefully  inspected  by  Knight,  whose 
mechanical  knowledge  was  most  useful,  and  found  to  be  in  excellent 
working  condition.  It  was  thoroughly  oiled.  Then  we  moved  leisurely 
onward,  until  we  came  near  Moon’s  station,  where  some  workmen  were 
engaged  on  the  track,  and  the  opportunity  of  getting  necessary  tools 
was  too  good  to  be  lost.  Brown  sprang  down  and  asked  a man  for  a 
wedge-pointed  iron  bar  with  which  he  was  prying.  The  man  gave  it  at 
once  and  Brown  stepped  back  with  his  booty,  but  a little  disappointed,  for 
one  of  the  bent,  claw-footed  bars,  for  pulling  out  spikes,  would  have  been' 
worth  much  more,  but  they  had  none.  The  bar  taken  was  the  only  one 
of  their  tools  that  seemed  likely  to  be  of  value,  or  more  would  have  been 
borrowed — by  force,  if  not  otherwise. 

As  we  went  on,  Andrews  cautioned  his  engineers  not  to  run  too  fast, 
which  they  inclined  to  do;  all  of  us  would  have  relished  more  speed  in 
this  first  part  of  the  journey.  But  running  on  all  Southern  roads  in  war- 
times was  slow;  our  train  was  hot  scheduled  at  over  sixteen  miles  an  hour. 
The  road  itself  was  exceedingly  crooked,  with  abundance  of  short  curves, 
and,  having  but  light  iron  rails,  was  unfitted  for  high  speed.  We  were 
anxious  to  get  past  the  local  freight  that  we  might  test  the  road’s  capabili- 
ties. Those  on  the  engine  were  very  much  amused,  as  we  ran  by  station 
after  station,  to  see  the  passengers  come  up  with  their  satchels  in  their 
hands,  and  then  shrink  back  in  dismay  as  we  sped  past  without  a sign  of 
halting.  But  when  by,  we  would  stop  and  cut  the  telegraph  wire  so  that 
no  suspicions  or  inquiries  could  be  sent  ahead. 

Thus  we  passed  through  Ackworth,  and  Allatoona,  and  then  stopping 
again  to  cut  the  wire,  also  endeavored  to  lift  a rail.  While  we  were  sure 
that  no  train  from  Big  Shanty  could  follow  us,  we  wished  also  to  make  it 
difficult  for  one  from  Atlanta,  if  any  should  be  sent  from  there,  to  run 
rapidly  ; and  what  was  of  equal  importance,  we  did  not  wish  the  local  freight 
to  proceed  Southward  after  we  met  it,  to  be  turned  back  by  any  pursuers. 
A lifted  rail  is  almost  sure  to  throw  an  unsuspecting  train  from  the  track; 
and  we  put  such  an  obstruction  before  each  train  that  we  met  on  this 
journey.  Yet  the  process  of  taking  up  a rail,  though  we  made  much  of 
it,  was  far  from  easy  with  the  imperfect  tools  we  possessed.  A single  tool 
— a bar  constructed  expressly  for  drawing  out  spikes — would  have  enabled 
us  to  baffle  all  possible  pursuit.  But  this  we  did  not  have,  and  more  than 
five  minutes  were  consumed  for  each  rail  taken  up,  in  battering  out  some 
spikes  with  our  iron  bar,  and  afterwards  prying  the  remainder  loose  with 


Capture  of  the  Train, 


109 


handspikes,  and  with  the  rail  itself.  This  delay  was  of  no  great  impor- 
tance now,  for  we  had  a superfluity  of  time;  but  in  the  quick  and  terrible 
struggle  further  up  the  road,  when  seconds  were  decisive,  it  was  far  other- 
wise. The  rails  when  lifted  were  carried  away  with  us,  and  the  break  thus 
left  was  for  a time  a barrier  (to  a train  not  supplied  with  track-laying  tools) 
as  absolute  as  a burnt  bridge.  The  feeling  of  security  after  such  obstrnc- 


Tearing  up  Track. 


tion  was  very  delightful  and  not  unwarranted.  In  no  case  did  a pursuing 
train  pass  a place  where  we  had  torn  up  a rail  in  time  to  do  us  any  damage. 

There  was  an  exultant  sense  of  superiority  while  running  along  in  the 
midst  of  our  enemies  in  this  manner,  such  as  a man  in  a balloon  might 
feel  while  drifting  over  hostile  camps,  or  over  the  raging  waves  of  the 
ocean.  As  long  as  all  is  well  with  his  balloon  the  man  need  not  care  what 
takes  place  in  the  world  below;  and  as  long  as  our  engine  retained  its 


no 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


power  and  the  track  was  clear  before  us,  we  were  in  a similar  state  of 
security.  But  a knife  blade  thrust  in  the  silk  globe  overhead,  or  the 
slightest  tear  in  the  delicate  fabric,  will  in  a second  take  away  the  security 
of  the  man  in  the  clouds.  So  the  loosening  of  a bolt,  of  the  breaking 
of  a wheel  would  leave  us  powerless  in  the  midst  of  our  deadly  enemies. 
It  was  such  possibilities,  always  so  near,  that  imparted  thrilling  interest  to 
our  passage  through  towns  and  fields  and  woods  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy’s 
country. 

At  length  we  reached  the  Etowah  River  and  safely  passed  over  the 
great  bridge  at  that  point.  No  stop  was  made,  though  the  first  serious 
cause  for  anxiety  was  here  visible.  Hitherto  everything  had  worked  ex- 
actly as  we  had  calculated^  and  our  confidence  in  our  leader  and  in  final 
success  was  correspondingly  increased;  but  on  a side  track  which  con- 
nected with  a little  branch  road  that  ran  up  the  river  about  five  miles  to 
the  Etowah  iron-works  and  rolling-mills^  there  stood  a locomotive!  It  was 
but  a short  distance  from  us,  and  the  smoke  from  the  funnel  showed  too 
plainly  that  it  was  ready  for  work,  thus  constituting  an  element  of  the 
most  dangerous  character  which  had  not  been  embraced  in  our  calcula- 
tions. It  was  named  the  “Yonah,” — a private  engine  used  by  the  owners 
of  the  works  for  their  own  purposes.  Thoroughly  as  Andrews  had  ex- 
plored the  road,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  its  existence  until  the  moment 
when  he  saw  it  standing  on  the  side  track  not  a dozen  yards  away,  and 
looking  as  if  it  was  ready  to  enter  upon  a race  with  our  “General’^  on  equal 
terms.  It  was  still  thirteen  miles  to  Kingston,  and  the  enemy,  if  there 
was  any  direct  pursuit,  would  be  able  to  get  an  engine  that  much  sooner 
than  we  had  supposed  possible.  Several  men  were  gathered  about  it,  but 
not  enough  to  make  an  assault  seem  very  formidable  to  our  party.  At  the 
first  sight,  Knight  said  to  Andrews,  “We  had  better  destroy  that,  and  the 
big  bridge,”  but  Andrews  refused  with  the  remark,  It  won’t  make  any 
difference.^’ 

Nearly  all  critics  of  the  expedition  who  knew  of  the  presence  of  this 
locomotive, — for  a long  time  I did  not,  as  I was  shut  up  in  the  box-car — 
are  disposed  to  think  that  here  Andrews  made  a most  unaccountable  mis- 
take. But  this  is  far  from  certain.  Probably  he  had  an  aversion  to  the 
shedding  of  blood  when  not  clearly  necessary;  but  this  he  would  not  carry 
so  far  as  to  prevent  anything  he  thought  best  for  ultimate  success.  There 
is  no  reasonable  doubt  that  we  could  have  overcome  the  men  about  their 
engine,  and  then  have  caused  it  to  jump  off  the  track,  or  precipitate  itself 
from  the  bridge;  and  a very  few  minutes  more  would  have  sufficed  for 
setting  the  bridge  in  flames.  The  morning  was  damp  and  it  had  already 
began  to  rain  slightly,  which  would  have  delayed  the  burning;  yet  all 
might  have  been  done  in  twenty  or  thirty  minutes^  and  when  accomplished 
we  would  have  certainly  felt  safer, 


Capttire  of  the  Train, 


III 


But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  burning  of  this 
bridge  formed  no  part  of  Andrews’s  original  plan,  and  could  have  accom- 
plished nothing  more  toward  the  furthering  of  Mitchebs  plans  than  the 
burning  of  the  Oostenaula  bridge.  The  local  freight  train  was  now  due, 
and  if  it  came  in  sight  while  we  were  engaged  in  destroying  the  “Yonah” 
or  the  bridge,  and  getting  the  alarm  as  would  be  almost  inevitable  under 
the  circumstances,  should  get  away  from  us  and  run  back  to  Kingston, 
or  should  run  on  us  and  cause  a wreck,  our  situation  would  be  far  worse 
than  with  this  engine  left  behind  us.  But  even  if  we  could  be  assured 
that  the  local  would  not  come,  but  remain  for  us  at  Kingston,  still  the 
attack  here  would  alarm  the  enemy,  and  we  would  be  followed  from  this 
point  as  readily  as  from  Big  Shanty,  but  eighteen  miles  further  up  the 
road.  It  would  be  but  little  more  than  an  hour’s  gallop  to  Kingston, 
where  a train  for  pursuit  would  surely  be  found.  The  capture  at  Big 
Shanty  assured  us  of  a longer  start  under  any  circumstances  than  seemed 
possible  if  we  stopped  to  strike  a blow  here. 

To  understand  how  clearly  the  case  may  be  presented  on  the  negative 
side,  suppose  the  most  favorable  circumstances  as  actually  taking  place: 
We  burn  the  bridge  and  go  on  to  Kingston,  and  safely  pass  the  local 
freight,  which  goes  on  southward  and,  coming  in  sight  of  the  smoke,  is 
warned  in  time,  learns  who  has  done  the  mischief  and  comes  back  after 
us  ! For  throwing  off  or  disabling  trains  an  injured  track  was  far  better 
than  a burnt  bridge,  with  its  column  of  smoke  visible  for  miles;  though 
the  latter  was  a far  more  serious  and  lasting  injury  to  the  road.  For  this 
reason  we  tore  up  rail  3 in  front  of  each  train  that  we  feared  might  be 
turned  back  after  us,  in  the  expectation  that  it  would  be  disabled  by  run- 
ning upon  these  places  before  suspecting  danger.  Viewing  the  matter 
from  the  standpoint  of  facts  then  in  possession  of  Andrews,  his  decision 
was  right.  Had  nothing  else  occurred  than  the  presence  of  this  engine 
“it  would  have  made  no  difference.” 

Leaving  the  engine  and  bridge  behind,  we  glided  on  through  Carters- 
ville,  a town  of  considerable  size,  where  there  were  many  disappointed  pas- 
sengers on  the  platform,  and  continued  without  incident  until  we  reached 
Cass  station.  The  town  of  Cassville  is  some  distance  from  the  railroad, 
but  the  station  was  important  for  us  as  the  regular  place  for  taking  on 
wood  and  water.  Here  we  stopped  and  began  to  wood  up.  William 
Russel,  the  tender,  was  naturally  curious  about  the  appearance  of  such  a 
small  train  running  on  the  time  of  the  morning  mail,  with  no  passengers, 
and  none  of  the  regular  hands.  Here  Andrews  told  a most  adroit  and 
carefully  planned  story,  with  enough  of  foundation  to  make  it  probable. 
He  claimed  to  have  been  sent  by  Gen.  Beauregard,  who  was  in  desperate 
straits  for  ammunition,  to  impress  a train,  have  it  loaded  with  powder,  and 
run  it  through  at  lightning  speed.  Had  he  been  pressed  more  closely, 


1 12 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


ne  could  have  produced  passes  proving  himself  worthy  of  belief-  But  it 
was  not  necessary  to  go  so  far.  The  very  appearance  of  Andrews,  tall, 
commanding  and  perfectly  self  possessed,  speaking  like  one  who  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  authority,  was  so  much  like  the  ideal  Southern  officer 
that  Russel’s  credence  was  won  at  once.  He  knew  very  well  that  after 
such  a battle  as  Pittsburg  Landing  it  was  natural  that  powder  should  be 
scarce,  and  if  it  did  not  come  at  once,  what  more  natural  than  to  send  for 
it  ? Seeing  the  impression  that  he  had  made,  Andrews,  who  of  course  did 
not  work  at  throwing  on  wood,  but  left  that  to  his  companions,  asked  if 
he  could  not  be  supplied  with  a schedule  of  the  road,  as  it  might  be 
useful.  Russel,  in  his  patriotic  fervor,  took  down  and  handed  out  his 
own  schedule,  saying  that  he  would  “ send  his  shirt  to  Beauregard  ” if  the 
latter  wanted  it ! When  asked  afterward  if  he  did  not  suspect  a man  who 
made  such  an  unreasonable  demand,  he  answered,  No;  I would  as  soon 
have  suspected  Jefferson  Davis  himself  as  one  who  talked  with  the  assur- 
ance that  Andrews  did.’ 

We  were  now  within  seven  miles  of  Kingston,  resupplied  with  wood 
and  water,  without  having  met  the  slightest  hindrance,  and  with  a full 
schedule  of  the  road.  But  at  Kingston  we  had  more  reason  to  apprehend 
danger  than  anywhere  else  along  the  route,  A branch  road  from  Rome- 
connected  there  with  the  main  track,  and  the  morning  train  from  that  town 
would  be  awaiting  our  arrival.  This,  with  the  local  freight  which  we  hoped 
to  meet,  and  the  complicated  arrangement  of  the  switches,  would  constitute 
no  small  obstacle  to  our  onward  progress.  The  real  difficulties  surpassed 
expectations.  Andrews  had  made  himself  familiar  with  the  minutest 
working  of  the  road  at  this  point,  as  also  at  Dalton  and  Chattanooga,  and 
we  would  soon  be  able  to  see  how  he  would  overcome  the  hindrances  in 
his  way. 


CHAPTER  X. 


PURSUED! 

WE  reached  Kingston  a little  ahead  of  time.  A glance  showed  s 
that  the  local  freight  had  not  yet  arrived.  Without  the  slightest 
hesitation,  Andrews  ran  a few  hundred  yards  oast  the  station, 
and  ordered  the  switch-tender  to  arrange  the  switch  so  as  to  throw  us  on 
the  side  track;  then  we  backed  out  on  it,  stopping  on  the  west  side  of 
the  station,  and  almost  directly  alongside  of  the  Rome  passenger  train, 
then  lying  on  its  own  track,  which  joined  the  main  line  still  further  north. 
This  train  was  expecting  the  coming  of  Fuller’s  mail,  and  of  course,  the 
arrival  of  our  partial  train  in  the  place  of  the  one  they  were  expecting, 
was  a matter  of  the  greatest  interest  to  them.  The  engineer  stepped 
over  to  our  locomotive  and  said,  with  an  oath. 

How  is  this?  What’s  up?  Here’s  their  engine  with  none  of  their 
men  on  board.” 

Fortunately  Andrews  was  just  at  hand  and  promptly  replied,  “ I have 
taken  this  train  by  Government  authority  to  run  ammunition  through  to 
General  Beauregard,  who  must  have  it  at  once.’’ 

He  waved  his  hand  toward  the  car  in  which  we  were  shut  up  (repre- 
senting the ^ powder  !)  and  they  inquired  no  further  in  that  direction,  but 
simply  asked  when  the  passenger  train  would  be  along.  Andrews  re- 
sponded indifferently,  that  he  could  not  tell  exactly,  but  supposed  it  would 
not  be  a great  while,  as  they  were  fitting  out  another  train  when  he  left  At- 
lanta. With  this  cold  comfort  they  were  obliged  to  be  contented;  and  An- 
drews, leaving  the  engine  in  care  of  his  three  comrades,  went  into  the  tele- 
graph office,  which  was  on  the  side  of  the  depot  next  us  and  asked,  “ What 
is  the  matter  with  the  local  freight  that  it  is  not  here?  He  was  shown  a 
telegraph  dispatch  for  Fuller,  ordering  him  to  wait  at  this  point  for  its  com- 
ing— an  indication  that  it  was  not  very  far  away.  This  was  the  only  infor- 
mation vouchsafed  to  us  by  the  management  of  the  road  during  the  whole 
of  that  eventful  day  ! 

Andrews  returned  to  his  engine,  and  stood  there,  or  walked  about  on 
the  end  of  the  platform  near  by  during  the  tedious  moments  of  waiting. 
He  did  not  seek  to  enter  into  conversation  with  any  one,  but  quietly 
answered  any  question  asked.  He  appeared  abstracted  and  a little  anxious, 
8 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


II4 

as  was  natural  for  one  running  an  express  ammunition  train,  on  which  the 
safety  of  an  army  might  depend  ! It  was  fortunate  that  his  real  and 
assumed  characters  were  so  much  in  harmony. 

Brown,  Knight^  and  Wilson  attended  to  their  engine,  seeing  that  all 
was  in  good  order  with  a reasonable  head  of  steam,  and  refrained^  as  far 
as  they  could,  from  any  kind  of  conversation,  answering  all  demands  in 
monosyllables.  Their  position  during  this  enforced  stop  was  embarrass- 
ing, but  far  less  painful  than  ours  in  the  box-car.  We  could  hear  low 
murmurs  outside,  we  knew  that  we  were  at  a station,  and  alongside  another 
train,  and  could  hear  the  tread  of  feet;  but  we  could  not  learn  why  we  did 
not  press  on.  A thousand  conjectures  will  spring  up  at  such  times;  and 
the  possibilities  of  our  situation  were  ample  enough  for  all  kinds  of  imagin- 
ing. We  had  a tolerably  high  estimate  of  our  fighting  power,  and  did  not 
doubt  that  we  could  capture  any  ordinary  train,  or  the  usual  crowd  around 
a village  station.  But  to  be  shut  up  in  the  dark,  while — for  aught  we  knew 
— the  enemy  might  be  concentrating  an  overwhelming  force  against  us, 
was  exceedingly  trying,  and  put  the  implicit  confidence  we  had  in  our 
leader  to  a very  severe  test.  There  was  one  precaution  Andrews  had 
neglected — probably  because  he  trusted  so  fully  in  his  own  marvelous  gen- 
ius— but  the  need  of  which  was  felt  keenly  afterwards.  No  lieutenant  was 
appointed.  One  who  could  have  taken  charge  of  the  men,  leaving  Andrews 
free  to  plan  and  give  general  directions,  would  have  been  a support  to  us 
now,  and  a help  to  all  of  us  later.  With  George  D.  Wilson  or  some  other 
of  the  soldiers  as  authorized  second,  the  force  would  have  been  in  better 
fighting  trim,  and  what  is  of  still  more  importance,  Andrews  would  have 
felt  more  free  to  order  the  capture  of  any  pursuing  train.  But  at  present 
we  had  nothing  to  do  but  wait  till  the  road  was  cleared  for  us. 

Before  suspense  became  intolerable  the  whistle  of  an  approaching 
train  was  heard,  and  the  local  freight  rumbled  up  to  the  eastern  side  of 
the  depot,  and  stopped  on  the  main  track.  Andrews  made  haste  to  begin 
the  inevitable  conversation.  He  went  over  and  spoke  to  the  conductor, 
telling  him  to  pull  his  train,  which  was  quite  long,  on  down  the  road  so 
that  we  might  get  out  of  the  switch  and  proceed  on  our  way;  adding  the 
same  powder  story.  This  conductor  saw  that  Andrews  was  treated  with 
marked  deference  by  the  people  about  the  station,  and  did  not  hesitate  to 
believe  his  story  and  obey  the  order.  But  before  he  had  moved  his  train, 
Andrews  noticed  a red  flag  on  the  hind  car,  and  at  once  exclaimed; 
“ What  does  this  mean?  I am  ordered  to  get  this  powder  through  to 
Beauregard  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  and  now  you  are  signalling 
for  another  train  on  the  track  ! ” No  doubt  Andrews  felt  all  the  vexation 
he  expressed.  The  man  said  he  was  very  sorry,  but  it  could  not  be  helped; 
and  then  he  gave  the  reason,  which  was  a startling  piece  of  intelligence, 
Mitchel  had  captured  Huntsville  and  was  said  to  be  advancing  eastward 


Pursued, 


115 


toward  Chattanooga  by  forced  marches;  and  as  they  had  no  force  to  resist 
him,  they  were  running  everything  out  of  Chattanooga,  and  had  put  a large 
extra  train  on  the  track  to  get  the  rolling  stock,  as  well  as  the  goods,  out  of 
the  way.  Andrews  thanked  him  for  the  information  and  told  him  to  go 
a long  way  down  the  road  so  that  the  extra  would  have  room  enough  to  get 
by,  adding,  “ I must  be  off  the  very  first  minute  that  is  possible.’'  The 
conductor  made  no  objection,  but  asked,  “What  will  you  do  about 
Mitchel  at  Huntsville?”  Andrews  replied;  I do  not  believe  the  story. 
Mitchel  would  not  be  fool  enough  to  run  down  there,  but  if  he  is,  Beaure- 
gard will  soon  sweep  him  out  of  the  road.  At  any  rate  I have  my  orders.’^ 
The  train  was  pulled  down  the  road,  and  the  tedious  process  of  waiting 
continued. 

While  the  moments  are  dragging  their  leaden  weight  along  as  the  three 
trains  rest  on  separate  tracks  at  Kingston,  it  may  be  well  to  narrate  the 
experiences  of  those  whose  engine  was  so  unceremoniously  wrested  from 
them  at  Big  Shanty.  We  had  counted  on  a great  commotion  and  excite- 
ment following  the  seizure,  and  in  this  we  were  fully  warranted;  but  we 
also  believed  that  for  some  little  time  no  one  would  know  what  to  do.  In 
this  we  were  mistaken.  The  absence  of  a telegraph  office  or  engine,  or 
even  of  any  horses,  did  utterly  confound  the  great  majority;  but  a 
fortunate  mistake  on  the  part  of  one  man  served  the  Confederate  cause 
better  than  the  deepest  calculation  could  have  done;  in  fact,  gave  rise  to 
the  thrilling  railroad  chase  that  followed.  Conductor  Fuller,  Engineer 
Cain,  and  the  foreman  of  the  road  machine  shops,  Mr,  Anthony  Murphy, 
sat  down  to  the  breakfast  table  not  far  apart.  Before  they  had  tasted  a 
mouthful,  however,  the  sound  of  escaping  steam,  the  loud  whirr  of  the 
wheels  on  the  track,  and  the  outcry  that  rose  in  a moment  from  guards 
and  camp,  brought  them  and  all  the  breakfasters  to  their  feet.  By  this 
time  the  locomotive  had  started,  and  Fuller  and  Murphy,  with  loud  ex- 
clamations about  the  robbery  of  the  train,  rushed  pellmell  with  everybody 
else  out  on  the  platform,  the  passengers  who  had  been  uncoupled  and 
left  on  the  road,  not  being  behind  others  in  their  complaints  and  uproar. 
The  whole  camp  also  was  in  a turmoil.  A single  glance  around  showed 
Fuller  that  there  was  no  chance  for  help  there;  and  being  a man  of  quick 
thought  his  mind  fastened  on  an  idea — utterly  wrong  as  it  proved — but  which 
bad  the  merit  of  putting  him  vigorously  to  work.  The  nearest  guard  declared 
that  only  four  men  were  engaged  in  the  capture — he  had  only  seen  those 
that  mounted  the  engine — and  others  corroborated  him.  Fuller  remem- 
bered the  conscripts  he  had  been  warned  to  watcn  for,  and  at  once  the 
thought  flashed  across  his  mind,  ” Some  of  those  men,  one  of  whom  hap- 
pens to  know  enough  of  an  engine  to  pull  open  the  throttle,  have  jumped 
on  my  train  to  get  out  of  camp,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  outside  they  will 
leave  the  engine  and  run  into  the  mountains.  I must  follow  as  fast  as 


ii6 


Daring  and  Siiffering, 


possible  and  try  to  get  it  back  before  I get  very  badly  out  of  time,’^  Ah  ! 
there  was  no  more  regular  time  made  on  that  road  for  several  days  ! 

The  presence  of  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy  that  morning  was  purely  accu 
dental.  He  was  going  to  examine  an  engine  at  Allatoona  reported  out  of 
order.  As  an  officer  of  high  authority  on  the  road,  commanding  all  en- 
gineers and  firemen,  knowing  all  the  engines  and  everything  about  the 
road  perfectly,  his  presence  at  that  time  was  most  unfortunate  for  us. 
He  was  a man  of  great  coolness  and  good  judgment.  His  first  action 
was  far-sighted.  He  sent  Mr.  William  Kendrick  on  horseback  to 
Marietta,  to  notify  the  superintendent  at  Atlanta  by  wire.  Mr.  Kendrick 

arrived  in  time  to  hold  a freight 
train  there  till  orders  were  flashed 
back  to  drop  all  cars  but  one,  run 
up  to  Big  Shanty,  load  on  sol- 
diers and  pursue  with  all  speed. 
This  was  the  first  train  in  chase. 
A message  was  also  sent  from 
Marietta  to  Richmond,  but  no  re- 
sult followed  that.  My  present 
opinion  is  that  Andrews  had  in 
some  way  arranged  for  cutting 
the  wire  between  Chattanooga 
and  Knoxvillle,  which  was  the 
only  route  by  which  the  message 
could  have  gone  around  and  got 
on  the  line  of  the  Western  and 
Atlantic  railroad  ahead  of  us. 

Had  these  been  the  only  meas- 
ures of  pursuit — wise  and  iudi- 

Anthony  Murphy.  Supt.  of  W.  & A.  machine-shops.  . 

cious  as  they  were — our  task 
would  have  been  easy.  But  Fuller’s  error  and  his  ardent  temperament 
prompted  to  another  course.  He  called  to  Murphy  and  Cain,  “Come  on 
with  me;’’  they  promptly  followed  and  the  three  of  them  started  at  a dead  run 
up  the  track.  The  spectacle  of  three  men  running  vigorously  after  a flying 
engine,  as  if  they  expected  to  catch  it,  instantly  restored  the  mob  to  good 
humor,  and  they  cheered,  and  shouted  with  laughter!  What  would  have  been 
the  fate  of  these  runners  if  they  had  overtaken  us  at  the  first  stop,  where  we 
cut  wire  and  obstructed  the  track,  it  is  needless  to  inquire.  They  would 
have  hardly  begun  such  a chase  had  they  not  entirely  underestimated  our 
number,  as  well  as  mistaken  our  purpose.  The  Atlanta  Southerri  Co^ifeder- 
acy^  of  the  next  day,  in  an  article  full  of  panic,  written  before  the  issue  was 
determined,  speaks  of  us  as  “ some  four  men  yet  unknown.’^  The  whole 
article  is  so  full  of  interest  that  we  give  it  entire  on  a subsequent  page. 


Pursued, 


I17 


The  different  running  powers  of  the  pursuers  were  soon  made  evident 
in  this  apparently  hopeless  chase.  Fuller  was  extraordinarily  fleet  and  of 
great  endurance.  His  companions  were  equally  zealous  but  less  able  for 
running.  They  were,  therefore,  soon  spread  out  for  a considerable  dis- 
tance. While  putting  in  his  best  efforts.  Fuller  shouted  back  encourage- 
ment to  his  comrades,  but  did  not  wait.  The  hope  of  getting  his  train 
soon  was  too  strong,  and  he  also  feared  that  the  reckless  men  who  had 
taken  it  might  do  some  injury  to  the  engine  before  he  could  come  up. 
The  idea  that  they  might  offer  any  resistance  did  not  enter  his  mind. 

But  the  chase  could  not  long  have  continued  in  this  manner  for  human 
muscles  cannot  be  pitted  successfully  against  steam.  The  labored  breath 
and  the  decreasing  pace  of  the  runners  showed  that  they  were  well  nigh 
exhausted;  and  as  curve  after  curve  was  rounded, — for  with  the  instinct 
of  railroad  men  they  clung  to  the  track, — they  grew  discouraged;  but  just 
before  their  “second  wind”  was  exhausted,  they  received  both  help  and 
renewed  excitement.  They  came  to  Moon^s  station,  some  two  miles  from 
the  place  of  starting,  and  have  never  been  able  to  make  even  a plausible 
conjecture  of  the  time  consumed  in  this  first  stage  of  the  journey;  but  it  is 
certain  that  it  was  just  as  little  as  straining  muscles  and  iron  will  could 
make  it. 

Here  they  learned  from  the  track-laying  party  that  some  of  their  tools 
had  been  “borrowed,”  and  a short  distance  beyond  some  ties  placed  on 
the  track,  and  the  telegraph  cut.  This  was  our  first  halt,  and  the  track  • 
had  been  obstructed  that  a train  coming  from  Atlanta  might  be  hindered. 
The  pursuers  here  found  a hand-car — not  one  of  the  elaborate  machine 
cars,  which  may  be  driven  at  great  speed,  but  what  Fuller  termed  a “pole- 
car.”  It  was  at  once  pressed  into  service  and  gave  a welcome  rest. 
Fuller  ran  it  backward  a little  way  and  picked  up  his  companions  who 
were  behind,  then  drove  forward  as  fast  as  the  construction  of  the  car 
would  permit.  Pushing  with  a long  pole  in  flat-boat  fashion,  quite  rapid 
time  could  be  made  on  the  level,  and  on  down-grades,  while  on  the  steep 
up-grades,  two  would  jump  off  and  push  at  a full  run. 

At  Ackworth  they  got  a reinforcement  of  two  men,  Mr.  Smith  and 
Mr.  Stokely,  and  hurried  forward.  All  idea  that  they  were  following 
conscripts  had  now  been  given  up.  They  had  learned  that  the  captors 
had  been  seen  oiling  their  engine,  as  if  preparing  for  a long  run,  and 
seeming  to  perfectly  understand  their  work.  Fuller  and  Murphy  were 
now  able,  for  the  first  time,  to  consult  about  their  plansj/  We  were  run- 
ning on  regular  time — a circumstance  that  they  had  noted  in  the  reports 
received  from  the  different  stations, — and  that  time  was  only  sixteen  miles 
per  hour,  which  meant  two  hours  to  Kingston.  They  were  making  seven 
or  eight  miles  on  the  pole-car,  and  that,  if  kept  up  (it  was  the  utmost  they 
could  do),  would  bring  them  to  Etowah  in  two  or  three  hours  from  the 


ii8 


Daring  a)id  Suffering, 


start.  “ Then  if/’  Fuller  continued,  “ we  can  find  the  old  ‘ Yonah’  ready 
at  our  end  of  the  branch,  we  can  take  her  and  run  up  to  Kingston  in 
fifteen  minutes  more.  There  are  to  be  some  extra  trains  on  the  road  to- 
day that  will  bother  the  scoundrels  up  there,  and  the  chances  are  that  we 
will  overhaul  them  at  that  place,  where  we  will  get  plenty  of  help.”  But 
if  we  do  not  find  the  ‘Yonah’  ready?”  was  asked.  “ Why,  then,  so  far  as 
I can  see,  we  are  done,”  was  the  reply. 

They  did  not  stop  to  speculate,  but  were  all  this  time  pressing  on  at 
the  very  highest  speed  possible.  It  might  well  be  that  one  minute  would 
' make  all  the  difference  between  finding  the  “Yonah”  and  her  starting  back 
to  the  iron  works,  miles  away.  But  there  was  a sharp  interruption  just 
before  they  came  in  sight  of  Etowah,  and  while  they  were  straining  every 
nerve  and  looking  forward  to  see  if  the  smoke  of  the  engine  was  yet  visi- 
ble. We  had  taken  up  a rail,  and  there  was  a crash,  a sense  of  falling, 
and  they  found  themselves  lying,  hand-car  and  all,  in  a heap  at  the  bot- 
tom of  a ditch  ! If  the  embankment  had  been  as  high  at  that  place  as  at 
many  others  on  the  road,  all  our  danger  would  have  ended,  for  no  other 
party  that  day  originated  anything  against  us;  but  the  ground  was  almost 
level;  and  except  a few  bruises,  they  were  unhurt,  and  at  once  placed 
their  car  on  the  track  again. 

While  doing  this,  they  were  greatly  stimulated  and  hurried  by  noticing 
the  smoke  and  steam  of  the  ‘‘Yonah,”  which  they  could  see  across  the 
long  bend  on  their  side  of  Etowah  River.  If  they  could  only  make  the 
distance,  a little  more  than  a mile,  before  the  engine  went  back  on  the 
branch  ! With  all  their  power,  like  men  working  for  their  lives,  they  drove 
forward.  They  were  none  too  soon.  The  engine  was  on  the  main  track 
still,  and  the  tender  was  just  being  turned  on  the  half-moon  turn-table, 
preparatory  to  starting  back.  But  the  people  there  saw  the  furiously  driven 
hand-car,  with  the  shouting,  excited  men  on  it,  and  at  once  suspended 
their  work  and  gathered  around,  to  know  the  cause  of  these  frantic  gestures. 
Fuller  had  not  much  breath  left  to  spend  in  talking,  but  managed  to  say 
that  the  Yankees  had  taken  his  train,  and  that  he  wanted  their  engine,  and 
all  of  them  with  their  guns  to  follow  in  chase.  He,  with  every  man  of  his 
party,  was  well  known  and  there  was  no  stopping  to  question.  Their  very 
appearance,  streaming  with  sweat  and  almost  exhausted,  bore  witness  to 
the  urgency  of  their  haste.  A score  of  strong  arms  whirled  back  the  ten- 
der on  the  turn-table,  and  pushed  it  and  an  empty  coal-car  up  to  the 
engine,  while  a number  of  Confederate  soldiers  who  were  waiting  to  take 
the  next  train  southward  to  Big  Shanty,  piled  in  also. 

Now  they  were  off  with  a strong,  well-armed  party,  and  the  chase  was. 
on  more  equal  terms.  “The  ‘Yonah,’  ” in  the  words  of  Fuller,  ” was  not 
a strong  engine,  but  had  large  wheels,  was  as  active  as  a cat,  and  with  a 
light  load  could  run  very  fast.”  She  was  now  just  in  the  service  adapted 


Pursued, 


1 19 

to  her^  and  her  drivers  called  out  all  her  powers.  As  they  dew  over  the 
ground,  it  was  a refreshing  contrast  to  the  exertions  on  foot  or  hand-car. 
The  thirteen  miles  were  made  in  sixteen  minutes.  If  the  extra  trains  at 
Kingston  only  entangled  us  as  long  as  Fuller  hoped,  the  whole  affair  would 
soon  be  brought  to  a final  issue  1 He  did  not  dread  the  fight  that  was 
likely  to  follow,  for  our  number  was  only  reported  even  yet  by  those 
who  had  seen  us  working  as  eight,  while  he  had  some  twenty  well-armed 
men  with  him  at  this  stage  of  the  journey;  and  there  were  the  crews  of  the 
four  or  five  trains  at  Kingston.  Indeed,  Fuller  and  Murphy  might  be 
excused  if  they  rather  feared  that  “the  Yankees^'  might  be  captured  before 
they  arrived. 

But  where  were  we  while  this  train  was  flying  toward  us  ? Lying  still 
on  the  side  track  at  the  left  hand  of  Kingston  station,  enduring  those 
agonies  of  suspense  and  intense  alternations  of  hope  and  fear  which  were 
harder  to  bear  than  all  the  exertions  of  Fuller  and  his  companions  ! The 
local  freight  train  came  as  previously  narrated,  and  had  drawn  down  the 
road  to  let  the  extra  follow  it,  and  still  give  us  room  to  haul  out  above. 
Long  and  tedious  was  the  waiting.  But  when  we  almost  despaired  the 
extra  came.  But  alas  ! on  this  train,  also,  was  a red  flag  ! On  being  ques- 
tioned as  to  the  meaning  of  another  train,  the  conductor  said  that  there 
were  too  many  cars  and  too  great  a load  for  one  engine,  and  that  another 
section  was  made  up,  and  would  be  along  shortly.  The  delay  for  these 
two  trains  had  already  been  little  less  than  an  hour;  and  here  was  a third 
train,  still  blocking  the  road  before  us  ! How  Andrews  wished  that  he 
had  taken  the  risk  of  running  out  in  the  face  of  the  first  extra  and  had 
tried  to  make,  at  least,  the  station  above  ! We  could  easily  have  suc- 
ceeded But  now,  in  the  absence  of  some  telegraphic  message — and  no 
report  was  made  to  that  office,  while  Andrews  hardly  thought  it  prudent 
to  telegraph  for  instructions  ! — it  would  be  madness  to  run  out  between 
the  two  sections  of  a belated  train.  It  was  better  to  wait,  even  if  that 
entailed  the  risk  of  a fight.  For  this  possibility  Andrews  made  ready; 
he  said  to  Knight  : 

“ Go  back  and  tell  the  boys,  without  attracting  attention,  that  we  have 
to  wait  for  a train  that  is  behind  time,  and  for  them  to  be  ready  to  jump 
out  at  the  signal,  if  needed,  and  fight.” 

Knight  sauntered  carelessly  along  down  the  train,  just  as  if  he  was 
tired  to  death  with  waiting  and  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  himself; 
and  leaning  against  our  car,  without  turning  his  head  or  eyes  toward  us, 
said  in  a low  tone  which  we  heard  perfectly: 

Boys,  we  have  to  wait  for  a train  that  is  a little  behind  time,  and  the 
folks  around  are  getting  mighty  uneasy  and  suspicious.  Be  ready  to 
jump  out,  if  you  are  called,  and  let  them  have  it  hot  and  fast.*^ 

We  did  not  know  how  many  of  the  uneasy  folks  ” there  might  be 


120 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


about;  and  so  unbearable  had  become  the  suspense  of  being  shut  up  in 
that  dark  car,  and  hearing  the  sound  of  voices  outside,  without  being  able 
to  distinguish  the  words  or  know  what  was  going 'on,  that  a command  to 
spring  out  and  begin  a deadly  strife  would  have  been  welcomed  as  a relief, 
without  much  regard  to  numbers.  We  said  we  were  ready;  we  had  been 
ready  at  any  time  the  last  hour  ! Still  we  carefully  examined  the  priming 
of  every  revolver,  and  saw  that  reserve  ammunition  was  in  pockets  within 
easy  reach.  We  did  not  intend,  if  it  came  to  a fight,  to  shoot  at  long 
range,  but  to  close  right  in,  where  every  shot  would  be  deadly.  That 
we  could,  with  the  surprise  of  an  unexpected  assault,  and  firing  each  time 
to  kill,  have  cleared  the  station  of  four  times  our  number,  I have  never 
doubted.  Could  any  situation  be  imagined  by  poet  or  novelist  more  try- 
ing than  that  of  this  carload  of  Union  soldiers  shut  up  in  the  midst  of 
Rebel  trains  ! 

But  we  were  not  called  upon  to  quiet  the  “ uneasiness  ” outside,  which 
was  fully  as  great  as  Knight  had  described,  in  any  such  summary  manner. 
Andrews  played  his  part  with  surpassing  skill.  The  people  around,  and 
especially  the  old  switch-tender,  began  to  grumble  something  about  being 
sure  that  all  was  not  right.  A good  many  questions  were  asked  as  to  why 
Fuller  with  the  regular  train  was  not  along  by  this  time,  and  why  the  super- 
intendent of  the  road  at  Atlanta  had  not  sent  notice  of  the  powder  train. 
Andrews  answered  each  suggested  question  very  briefly  and  plausibly, 
but  without  appearing  at  all  anxious  about  their  opinion;  grumbled  a little 
about  the  bad  management  of  a road  that  would  allow  its  track  to  be 
blocked  at  a time  like  this;  gave  accounts  of  himself  in  the  camp  of 
Beauregard,  with  an  air  so  confident  and  truthful  that  no  one  ventured  to 
question  him.  I think  there  was  only  one  thing  aside  from  the  dangerous 
delay,  which  he  really  dreaded.  He  kept  very  near  the  telegraph  office, 
and  without  seeming  to  do  so,  closely  watched  the  operator.  The  attempt 
to  telegraph  any  kind  of  a message  up  the  line,  would  have  probably 
brought  on  an  immediate  collision. 

Brown  narrates  a curious  little  episode  as  occurring  here.  He  noticed 
a man  who  watched  Andrews  for  a short  time,  and  then,  when  no  one  else 
was  near,  stepped  close  to  him  and  handed  him  a large  and  seemingly 
well-filled  envelope.  Andrews  smiled,  and  placed  it  in  his  breast  pocket. 
Brown  intended  to  ask  about  it,  but  more  pressing  business  put  it  out  of 
his  mind.  Probably  this  was  an  incident  of  Andrews’s  contraband  trade, 
and  the  package  contained  an  order  for  goods  with  the  money  to  pay  for 
them.  If  Andrews  was  recognized  on  this  raid  by  any  who  knew  him, 
as  he  seems  to  have  been  on  more  than  one  instance,  he  was  not  at  all 
compromised  by  such  meeting,  as  long  as  the  train  was  not  known  to  be- 
long to  the  Yankees.  But,  however  successful,  this  day’s  work  must  have 
ended  the  r6le  he  had  been  playing,  and  forever  closed  the  South  to  him. 


Pursued. 


I2I 


Fuller  and  his  party  were  now  not  many  miles  away,  and  were  making 
more  rapid  time  toward  us  than  had  ever  been  made  on  that  road  before. 
^ But  we  knew  nothing  of  that — supposed  that  we  were  still  an  hour  ahead 
of  any  pursuit  that  could  be  imagined.  We  had  been  at  this  place  one 
hour  and  five  minutes  ! It  seemed  to  those  shut  up  in  the  box-car  nearer 
half  a day  ! and  when  the  whistle  of  a train  was  heard,  which  fortunately 
for  us  was  first  from  the  7iorth — not  the  pursuing  train  from  the  south — it 
was  about  as  welcome  as  the  boom  of  Mitchel’s  cannon  with  which  we  ex- 
pected to  be  greeted  in  the  evening  when  our  work  was  done.  This  last 
^ extra  came  up  to  the  platform  as  the  others  had  done,  and  was  at  once 
ordered  by  Andrews  to  draw  on  down  the  road  that  we  might  have  room 
to  go  out.  The  conductor  obeyed  without  hesitation,  and  this  obstruction 
was  removed. 

It  only  remained  to  adjust  the  switch  so  that  we  might  again  get  on 
che  main  track.  This  Andrews  directed  the  old  switch-tender  to  do;  but 
he  had  been  getting  in  a worse  and  worse  humor  for  the  whole  of  the  last 
hour;  he  had  hung  up  his  keys,  and  now  roughly  declared  that  he  would 
not  take  them  down  again  until  Andrews  showed  him  by  what  authority 
he  was  ordering  everybody  about  as  if  he  owned  the  whole  road  ! We 
who  were  shut  up  in  the  box-car,  heard  the  loud  and  angry  voice,  and  sup- 
posed that  the  time  for  us  to  act  had  come;  yet  we  waited  for  our  leader^s 
command  as  we  remembered  how  he  had  counselled  us  against  being  too 
* precipitate.  But  he  only  laughed  softly  as  if  the  anger  of  the  old  man 
amused  him,  and  saying  I have  no  more  time  to  waste  with  you,’*  he 
walked  into  the  station,  to  the  place  where  he  had  seen  the  keys  put  up, 
and  taking  them  down,  went  quietly  and  swiftly  out  and  made  the  change 
himself.  The  tender’s  wrath  knew  no  bounds  at  this;  he  stormed,  de- 
clared he  would  have  Andrews  arrested,  would  report  him,  and  many 
t other  things.  Andrews  then  waved  his  hand  to  the  engineer,  and  as  our 
locomotive  came  promptly  up,  he  stepped  on  board,  and  we  glided  out  on 
the  main  track,  and  were  off ! 

It  had  been  a fearful  ordeal,  but  it  was  well  met.  The  three  men. 
Brown,  Knight,  and  Wilson,  who  were  outside,  declared  that  they  did  not 
see  the  slightest  indication  of  fear,  chagrin,  or  impatience  on  the  part  of 
( Andrews,  save  what  he  exhibited  when  telling  how  much  Beauregard  was 
in  need  of  his  ammunition,  and  what  a shame  it  was  that  the  road  should 
be  blocked  by  any  ordinary  travel  when  the  fate  of  their  brave  soldiers 
was  trembling  in  the  balance.  Andrews  had  explained  that  it  was  because 
he  could  not  get  his  orders  filled  without  ruinous  delays  by  the  ordinary 
channels,  that  Beauregard  had  sent  him  to  bring  this  powder  through  by 
force,  if  necessary;  and  declared  that  if  the  officers  at  home  did  not  sup- 
port the  army  in  the  field  better,  martial  law  would  soon  be  proclaimed  ! 
Such  grumbling  and  threats  were  applauded  by  those  who  wished  to  be 


122  Daring  and  Suffering, 

thought  especially  loyal  to  the  rebel  cause.  For  at  least  half  an  hour  no 
distrust  was  shovv^n. 

The  hour  and  five  minutes  we  were  at  this  station  added  to  our 
two  hours  run  made  us  now  three  hours  and  five  minutes  from  Big 
Shanty.  Fuller  was  three  hours  and  nine  minutes  on  the  way.  He 
came  in  sight  of  Kingston  just  four  minutes  after  we  had  glided  around 
the  sharp  northward  curve  beyond;  so  near  were  we  to  the  final  collision 
at  this  place  ! 


1 

--  % 


//  *» 

f ) 


$ 


* 


CHAPTER  XI. 


AN  APPALLING  STRUGGLE. 


AS  soon  as  we  were  well  out  of  sight  of  the  station  we  stopped,  and 
Scott,  with  a man  at  each  foot  to  give  him  a good  start,  was  in  a 
moment  at  the  top  of  the  telegraph  pole,  the  box  was  knocked  off, 
and  the  wire  cut.  We  wanted  no  message  of  inquiry  sent  ahead,  prefer- 
ring ourselves  to  tell  the  story  of  the  impressed  powder  train  and  Beau- 
» regard’s  need  of  ammunition.  While  this  was  being  done,  others  threw 
a few  obstructions  on  the  track.  When  once  more  on  board  we  noticed  a 
quickening  of  speed  that  after  our  long  rest  was  delightful.  We  had  been 
running  slowly  since  leaving  Big  Shanty,  but  now  Andrews  said  to  his 
crew,  “ Push  her,  boys,  push  her. Wilson  heaped  in  the  wood,  and  the 
fire  which  was  but  moderate  when  we  left  Kingston,  was  soon  roaring,  and 
j great  clouds  of  smoke  escaping.  Our  leader’s  intention  was  to  reach 
Adairsville  in  a few  minutes,  in  order  to  meet  two  trains  there  which  were 
now  over  due.  These  were  the  through  freight  and  the  Southern  passen- 
ger trains,  and  they  would  wait  for  us  (“  Fuller’s  train  ”)  there.  Our 
terrible  delay  at  Kingston  was  in  every  way  most  unfortunate.  If  there 
had  been  no  extra  trains  we  could  by  this  time  have  been  at  Dalton,  forty 
miles  further  up  the  road,  with  the  Oostenaula  bridge  burned  behind  us, 

* and,  these  two  trains  passed,  leaving  no  further  serious  obstacle  to  contend 
with. 

But  while  so  anxious  to  reach  Adairsville,  the  next  station  above, 
where  there  was  a side  track,  it  would  never  do  to  leave  the  way  open  from 
Kingston,  as  the  distance  is  only  ten  miles,  and  if  the  enemy  choose  to 
make  up  a pursuing  train  at  that  point,  on  account  of  suspicions  formed, 

* it  might  be  very  embarrassing.  So  it  seemed  that  we  had  scarcely  got 
under  full  headway  at  a tremendous  rate  of  speed,  before  the  tender- 
brakes,  all  that  we  had  on  our  train,  were  put  sharply  down,  and  we  were 
on  the  ground  almost  before  the  train  had  stopped,  and  under  the  ener- 
getic leadership  of  Andrews  were  hard  at  work  lifting  the  track,  the  readi- 
est mode  of  effective  obstruction  in  our  power.  We  again  cut  the  wire, 

^ and  also  loaded  on  a large  number  of  ties  and  other  kinds  of  wood  to  be  used 
in  burning  the  bridge.  We  were  the  more  anxious  for  abundant  fuel  as 
the  ceaseless  rain,  which  was  now  severe,  would  render  kindling  a fire 


124 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


without  much  wood,  slow  and  difficult.  No  time  was  lost  in  these  opera- 
tions, as  but  a few  could  work  at  track-lifting  at  once,  and  others  were 
ready  for  any  other  useful  employment. 

Lifting  a rail  seems  easy  enough,  but  it  was  far  from  easy  in  practice. 
The  rail  is  long  and  heavy;  it  is  securely  bolted  to  other  rails,  and  fast- 
ened with  great  spikes  driven  into  solid  oak  ties^  which  in  turn  are  deeply 
inbedded  in  the  ground.  This  was  the  first  place  we  wished  to  take  up  a 
rail  very  quickly,  and  accordingly  we  were  far  more  sensible  of  the  diffi- 
culty than  when  we  had  abundance  of  leisure.  We  were  not  excited,  for 
we  believed  ourselves  an  hour  ahead  of  any  probable  pursuit:  but  to  pass 
the  two  trains  still  before  us,  and  hurry  to  our  real  work  of  bridge  burning, 
was  an  ardent  desire.  Slowly  we  drew  out  spike  after  spike,  battering  out 
the  great  nails  as  rapidly  as  possible  with  our  one  iron  bar.  I cannot  tell 
how  many  minutes  we  spent,  but  time  went  by  swiftly.  The  large  load  of 
ties  which  were  not  far  away,  was  a great  acquisition,  and  were  all  on  board 
before  the  stubborn  rail  was  half  loosened.^ 

The  rail  was  loosened  at  the  southern  end,  and  for  perhaps  two-thirds 
of  its  length,  was  cleared  of  spikes.  Eight  of  us,  including  our  strongest 
men,  took  hold  of  it,  to  try  to  pull  out  the  remainder  by  the  rail  itself. 
But  they  were  too  firmly  fixed;  and  we  were  about  to  give  up  the  attempt 
and  wait  to  batter  out  a few  more,  when  away  in  the  distance,  we  heard, 
faintly  but  unmistakably,  the  whistle  of  a locomotive  in  pursuit ! But 
faint  and  far  off  as  it  was,  no  sound  more  unwelcome  ever  fell  on  human 
ear.  Before  us,  only  two  or  three  miles  away,  there  were  two  trains  possi- 
bly blocking  the  track;  and  behind  us  a pursuing  engine,  which  in  a min- 
ute or  two  more  would  be  upon  us.  It  nearly  seemed  as  if  our  race 
was  ended  ! But  we  did  not  pause  for  moralizing;  we  lifted  again  and  with 
every  particle  of  strength,  as  men  lift  for  life.  The  strong  rail  bent  under 
the  terrible  pressure  and  snapped  with  a dull  twang  f All  of  us  tumbled 
in  a confused  heap  down  the  grade,  but  in  a moment  were  on  our  feet,  and 
hurrying  towards  the  car,  taking  our  precious  half  rail  with  us.  For  the 
time  we  were  saved  ! No  matter  who  the  pursuer  was  he  would  be  ar- 
rested by  that  break,  and  give  us  time,  with  favoring  fortune,  to  pass  the 
trains  above. 

Once  more  we  were  on  board  and  away!  We  would  soon  know  whether 
we  were  to  have  a clear  track  at  Adairsville  or  to  repeat  the  vexatious  and 


* Here,  so  far  as  I can  determine,  after  a most  exhaustive  examination,  occurred  an  in- 
cident which  has  given  rise  to  much  controversy.  In  “ Daring  and  Suffering,”  of  1863, 
it  was  narrated  substantially  as  above  ; but  afterward,  some  Confederate  accounts  induced 
me  to  think  that  myself  and  comrades  had  mistaken  the  place  ; for  concerning  localities  our 
recollections  would  naturally  be  less  definite  than  those  of  our  pursuers  ; but  full  investiga- 
tion shows  the  balance,  even  of  Confederate  authority,  to  be  on  the  side  of  the  story  as 
here  given  ; and  it  certainly  renders  all  the  events  that  followed  more  clear  and  intelligible. 


An  Appalling  Struggle, 


125 


dangerous  experience  of  Kingston.  Once  more  the  engine  was  given  full 
force;  we  in  the  box-car  were  thrown  from  side  to  side,  sometimes  a little 
roughly;  but  this  did  not  diminish  our  joy  over  the  rapid  motion  which 
was  “devouring*’  the  distance  between  us  and  our  friends  in  Tennessee  ! 
As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  station,  there  to  our  great  satisfaction  lay  the 
freight  train,  which,  indeed,  had  long  been  waiting  for  us,  as  we  were  now 
a half  hour  behind  the  time  of  Fuller^s  passenger  train,  and  also  waiting, 
for  the  morning  passenger  train  from  Chattanooga,  which  should  have 
overtaken  the  freight  at  this  point,  but  which  was  also  late.  Indeed,  the 
panic  in  Chattanooga,  and  the  extra  trains  on  the  road  had  disordered  the 
whole  schedule,  and  enormously  increased  our  difficulties.  As  we  came 
near  the  station,  speed  was  slackened,  and  we  stopped  on  the  main  track 
beside  the  through  freight.  Andrews  at  once  answered  the  usual  storm 
of  questions  and  asked  others  in  turn.  He  heard  still  more  of  Mitchel’s 
operations,  how  he  seemed  to  have  captured  all  their  trains  on  the  western 
road,  so  that  for  twenty-four  hours  not  a car  had  got  through,  and  that  the 
telegrams  were  being  interrupted  further  and  further  up  the  road,  so  that, 
from  every  indication,  he  was  coming  to  Chattanooga.  But  Andrews  was 
still  more  interested  in  asking  news  of  the  down  passenger  train,  which 
was  now  half  an  hour  late.  No  information  was  received,  but  the  freight 
conductor  had  determined  to  run  on  south  on  the  arrival  of  Fuller’s  train, 
in  harmony  with  their  rule  of  railroading  at  that  time,  by  which  a follow- 
ing train  was  to  be  waited  for  only  a certain  length  of  time,  after  which 
the  waiting  train  had  the  right  to  proceed.  Andrews  approved  of  that 
intention,  saying  that  Fuller  with  the  regular  train  would  probably  wait  for 
him  at  Kingston.  Andrews  might  have  held  this  train  here  by  giving  a 
message  as  from  Fuller,  but  he  preferred  to  get  rid  of  it,  so  that  if  com- 
pelled to  back  before  the  belated  passenger,  it  might  not  be  in  the  way: 
and  if  compelled  to  fight,  the  fewer  of  the  enemy  the  better:  otherwise, 
its  running  down  to  the  place  of  the  broken  rail  was  undesirable.  The 
conductor  said  to  Andrews: 

“You  of  course  will  remain  here  until  my  passenger  train  comes,  and 
tell  them  to  overhaul  me  at  Kingston  ! 

“ No,  ” returned  Andrews,  “ I must  go  at  once  ! the  fate  of  the  army 
hangs  on  my  getting  promptly  through  with  those  carloads  of  ammunition. 
Suppose  the  Yankees  attack  Beauregard  ! He  has  not  powder  enough  for 
three  hours*  fight. 

This  was  a startling  possibility,  and  forgetting  all  about  Mitchel  being 
in  the  way,  the  conductor  (the  men  on  both  sides  had  heard  the  conversa- 
tion, but  had  not  joined  in  it)  patriotically  said  : 

“Get  through  by  all  means;  but  you  will  have  to  run  very  slow  and 
put  a flag-man  out  on  every  curve,  or  you  will  have  a collision.^’ 

Andrews  answered  quickly:  “ I will  attend  to  that;’^  stepped  on  his  own 


I 


126 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


engine  and  motioned  to  Knight  who  was  still  at  the  throttle.  The  latter 
hearing  the  words  about  running  slowly  had  put  on  the  steam  ii  a 
gradual  manner,  and  the  engine  glided  away  at  a moderate  rate  of  speed. 

But  this  was  not  to  last;  neither  was  any  flagman  to  be  sent  ah:ad; 
there  had  been  delays  enough.  The  time  had  come  when  it  was  wise  to 
take  a terrible  risk.  We  dared  not  wait  for  the  passenger  train  because 
of  the  pursuers  we  had  heard,  and  of  the  freight  which  had  started  toward 
the  break;  and  we  must  reach  the  station  above  before  the  passenger  started 
out ! From  Adairsville  to  Calhoun,  the  next  station  that  had  a side  track, 
is  a little  more  than  nine  miles.  The  road  runs  directly  north,  is  almost 
straight,  and  but  little  removed  from  level;  this  is  the  most  favorable 
stretch  for  running  on  the  whole  line.  Andrews  said  to  his  comrades, 
Make  her  show  how  fast  she  can  go;  every  second  saved  in  getting  to 
Calhoun  counts.”'  The  effect  of  giving  such  orders  to  men  whose  nerves 
had  all  morning  been  thrilling  with  suppressed  fire  may  be  imagined!  The 
engine  was  in  the  finest  running  condition.  Knight  had  oiled  it  carefully 
during  the  long  waiting  at  Kingston,  and  again,  in  part,  at  Adairsville, 
and  a heavy  pressure  of  steam  had  accumulated  during  the  pause  at  the 
latter  station.  Now  the  full  force  of  the  mighty  power  was  turned  on  at 
once,  while  oi  was  poured  on  sticks  and  these  fed  into  the  furnace.  The 
three  cars  and  twenty  men  were  no  load  for  the  powerful  engine,  and  it 
sprung  to  its  work  with  a shock  that  nearly  took  every  man  from  his  feet ! 
The  race  against  time  which  followed  was  grand  and  terrible.  The  engine 
seemed  to  be  not  so  much  running  as  coursing  with  great  lion-like  bounds 
along  the  track,  and  the  spectacle  from  the  locomotive  as  it  rose  and  fell 
in  its  ceaseless  rapid  motion,  while  houses,  fields,  and  woods  rushed  by,  was 
wonderful  and  glorious,  almost  worth  the  risk  to  enjoy  ! In  the  box-car, 
we  were  thrown  from  side  to  side  and  jerked  about  in  a manner  that  baffles 
description.  The  car  was  so  close  to  the  engine  that  it  felt  every  impulse 
of  power  and  there  was  no  following  train  to  steady  it.  Many  times  we 
were  startled  with  the  momentary  conviction  that  we  were  off  the  track; 
but  there  was  no  cessation  of  our  rapid  flight.  We  hardly  knew  what  it 
meant,  and  though  we  pushed  our  door  partly  open,  the  risk  of  being 
thrown  out  was  too  great  to  permit  us  to  open  it  wide;  and  gazing  at  the 
panorama  that  flitted  by,  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  we  could  gain  no 
clue  to  this  frantic  and  perilous  chase,  for  there  was  no  indication  of  a 
following  train  that  we  could  perceive.  There  was  no  danger  of  being 
seen  in  the  opening  of  our  door,  for  the  rapid  flight  of  the  train  would 
have  attracted  all  the  attention  that  anything  upon  the  car  could.  Andrews 
scarcely  looked  ahead  while  making  this  run.  Brown  and  Knight;  how- 
ever, did  keep  a sharp  lookout,  simply  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  when 
we  came  near  the  station  that  they  might  shut  off  steam,  and  be  able  to 
stop  there.  They  had  no  hope  of  reversing  or  stopping,  if  they  saw  the 


An  Appalling  Struggle, 


127 


belated  passenger  train  approaching.  As  v/ell  try  to  reverse  a cannon  ball 
in  its  flight ! if  the  train  started  out  from  Calhoun  before  we  came  in  sight, 
it  was  simply  and  inevitably  death  for  every  one  of  us;  and  the  people  of 
the  other  train  would  not  have  fared  much  better. 

Our  fireman,  J.  A.  Wilson,  gives  a very  graphic  account  of  this  fearful 
effort  to  conquer  time:  ^ 

“Our  locomotive  was  under  a full  head  of  steam.  The  engineer  stood  with  his  hand 
on  the  lever,  with  the  valve  wide  open.  It  was  frightful  to  see  how  the  powerful,  iron 
monster  under  us  would  leap  forward  under  the  revolutions  of  her  great  wheels.  Brown 
would  scream  to  me  ever  and  anon,  ‘ Give  her  more  wood,  Alf/  which  command  was 
promptly  obeyed.  She  rocked  and  reeled  like  a drunken  man,  while  we  tumbled  from  side 
to  side  like  grains  of  popcorn  in  a hot  frying-pan.  It  was  bewildering  to  look  at  the  ground 
or  objects  on  the  roadside.  A constant  stream  of  fire  ran  from  the  great  wheels,  and  to 
this  day  I shudder  as  I reflect  on  that,  my  first  and  last  locomotive  ride.  We  sped  past 
houses,  stations,  and  fields,  and  out  of  sight,  almost  like  a meteor, while  the  bystanders,  who 
scarcely  caught  a glimpse  of  us  as  we  passed,  looked  on  as  if  in  both  fear  and  amazement. 
It  has  always  been  a wonder  to  me  that  our  locomotive  and  cars  kept  the  track  at  all,  or 
how  they  could  possibly  stay  on  the  track.  At  times  the  iron  horse  seemed  literally  to  fly 
over  the  course,  the  driving  wheels  of  one  side  being  lifted  from  the  rails  much  of  the  dis- 
tance over  which  we  now  sped  with  a velocity  fearful  to  contemplate.  We  took  little 
thought  of  the  matter  then.  Death  in  a railroad  smash-up  would  have  been  preferred  by 
us  to  capture.” 

Andrews  kept  his  watch  in  his  hand,  seeming  to  notice  nothing  else, 
for  time  was  the  only  element  in  this  part  of  our  problem;  and  he  and 
Knight,  who  looked  on  the  same  watch,  always  joined  in  declaring  that 
the  interval  of  nine  miles  between  the  two  stations  was  run  in  seve^i  and  a 
half  minutes;  and  this  not  upon  a magnificent  road  with  steel  rails  as  that 
road  is  to-day,  but  over  a poor  and  neglected  track  ! It  must,  in  candor, 
however,  be  allowed  that  Andrews  probably  reckoned  the  interval  from 
losing  sight  of  Adairsville  until  coming  in  sight  of  Calhoun.  When  near 
the  two  stations  he  would  be  otherwise  engaged;  and  thus  the‘rate  may 
have  been  little  over  a mile  a minute — surely  enough  for  all  the  fear, 
wonder,  and  sublimity  of  motion  ! 

Our  escape  on  this  run  was  exceedingly  narrow.  The  passenger  train 
had  begun  to  move  out  before  we  arrived;  but  it  had  only  just  got  under 
way  while  we  were  slackening  up  for  the  station.  A minute  earlier  in  their 
starting,  would  have  ended  the  raid.  But  seeing  us  coming,  and  our 
whistle  sounding  out  loud  and  peremptory,  they  backed  before  us  up  the 
track,  and  the  proper  officer  obligingly  opened  the  switch  to  let  us  on  the 
side  track.  Of  course  this  was  done  as  much  in  the  interest  of  the  pas- 
senger train,  which  could  not  go  on  till  we  were  out  of  the  way,  as  in  ours. 

But  they  did  not  go  on  for  some  time,  and  we  were  obliged  to  await 


^Adventures  of  Alf,  Wilson,  Toledo,  O.,  1880. 


128 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


their  movements.  In  backing  they  had  gone  far  enough,  not  only  to  give 
us  room  on  the  side  track,  but  also,  as  their  train  was  a long  one,  to  com- 
pletely block  the  far  end  of  it,  and  we  could  not  proceed  on  the  main  track 
until  they  should  pull  ahead.  Before  doing  this  they  naturally  wanted 
some  explanation.  The  lateness  of  the  regular  train;  our  having  Fuller’s 
engine,  without  him  or  any  of  his  men;  and  not  least,  the  manner  in  which 
we  had  swooped  down  upon  them  like  some  beast  of  prey,  coming 
without  any  signal  man  ahead  at  a time  when  under  railroad  rules  they 
were  entitled  to  the  road — all  this  which  only  some  most  urgent  occasion 
or  public  calamity  could  excuse,  called  for  explanation.  Andrews  calmly 
told  his  story,  and  the  urgent  need  of  ammunition  was  felt  to  justify  every 
thing;  and  all  the  questions  were  asked  and  answered  that  are  common 
among  railroad  men  on  meeting.  Yet  Andrews  would  have  talked  little 
and  would  have  made  a very  short  stop,  had  it  not  been  for  the  manner  in 
which  the  passenger  train  bound  in  his  own.  We  had  a good  right  to  be 
uneasy  here,  for  we  had  not  cut  the  wires  between  this  station  and  Adairs- 
ville  because  we  had  not  dared,  in  the  terrible  urgency  of  reaching  Calhoun, 
to  delay  even  for  this  purpose.  A question  might  come  on  the  wires  at 
any  moment  which  Andrews,  with  all  his  adroitness,  would  not  find  it  easy 
to  answer.  Neither  had  we  put  any  obstructions  on  the  track.  This  latter 
omission  prepared  the  way  for  another  race  against  time,  only  less  swift 
and  fearful  than  our  own. 

Thus  we  were  again  delayed.  Andrews  tried  gentle  and  indirect 
means  to  persuade  the  conductor  of  the  passenger  train  that  it  was  per* 
fectly  safe  for  him  to  run  down  and  get  to  Adairsville  before  Fuller’s 
passenger  train.  But  he  was  not  easily  persuaded.  The  bare  escape  from 
collision  with  our  train  had  shaken  his  nerves  too  much  for  him  to  wish  at 
once  to  repeat  the  experience.  Neither  did  he  seem  at  all  in  a hurry  to 
move  his  train  ahead  and  let  us  out  on  the  main  track;  but  as  his  train 
was  the  only  obstacle,  it  would  not  have  been  long,  had  he  continued 
obstinate,  until  the  reserve  force  of  our  party  would  have  been  brought 
into  requisition.  It  may  be  said  here  that  Andrews  was  perfectly  sincere 
in  telling  him  that  there  would  be  abundant  time  for  him  to  reach 
Adairsville  before  Fuller  with  his  train  would  be  along.  We  did  not  think 
that  Fuller  would  be  along  that  day,  and  with  his  own  train  he  was  not. 
But  as  matters  were,  if  the  Calhoun  man  had  allowed  himself  to  be 
persuaded  to  start  southward,  a fearful  collision  would  have  ended  all  possi- 
bilities of  pursuit,  and  left  us  free  to  burn  bridges  at  our  leisure.  Here 
was  another  of  the  narrow  escapes  made  by  the  enemy.  To  understand 
this  it  is  necessary  to  recur  to  Fuller  and  Murphy,  who  were  within  two  or 
three  minutes  of  Kingston  when  we  left  that  place. 

They  were  terribly  disappointed  when  they  found  themselves  stopped 
quite  a long  distance  below  Kingston  by  three  heavy  freight  trains,  and 


An  Appalling  Struggle. 


129 


learned  in  a brief  conversation  with  the  engineer  of  the  nearest,  and  the 
persons  who  had  run  down  that  way  on  hearing  their  whistle,  that  their 
game  had  flown.  They  heard  with  wonder  how  long  the  commander  of 
the  captured  train  had  been  held  there,  and  how  he  had  succeeded  in 
concealing  his  real  character.  The  formidable  nature  of  the  enemy  ahead 
was  now  clearly  revealed,  but  it  looked  for  a moment  to  Fuller  as  if  all  his 
labor  had  been  for  nothing,  and  that  he  would  be  able  to  continue  the 
pursuit  only  after  a ruinous  delay.  To  back  all  these  trains  up  the  heavy 
grade  so  that  he  could  get  on  the  side  track,  and  then  down  again  to  get 
off  at  the  upper  end,  would  require  an  amount  of  “ see-sawing,^'  that 
would  give  the  captors  of  his  train  a hopeless  start. 

Hyere  arose  a difference  of  opinion  between  Fuller  and  Murphy,  who  up 
to  this  time  had  worked  together  in  perfect  accord.  Murphy  ran  ahead 
and  cut  loose  the  “ New  York,"  the  new  and  good  engine  of  one  of  the 
freights,  attaching  it  to  the  car  which  had  brought  their  tools  from  Etowah. 
He  then  called  to  Fuller  to  move  the  Rome  engine  back  out  of  the  way 
that  he  might  come  round  on  the  “ Y.'^  But  Fuller  had  different  plans. 

The  Rome  engine  and  train  had  stood  on  its  own  track  all  this  time 
waiting  for  his  coming;  the  Rome  branch  led  into  the  main  track  above 
all  the  impediments.  Why  not  take  that  engine?  No  sooner  thought 
than  executed.  Fuller  had  taken  one  foot  race  that  day,  and  he  now  took 
another,  shorter  but  not  less  important.  The  engine  was  headed  already 
toward  Chattanooga  with  only  one  car  attached,  and  in  the  most  favorable 
position.  There  was  abundance  of  volunteers,  and  no  need  of  explana- 
tions, for  now  everybody  was  sure  that  the  impressed  powder  story  was 
false  and  absurd, — had  thought  so  all  the  time  ! Conductor  Smith,  of  the 
Rome  train,  gave  it  for  the  service  at  once.  All  was  done  so  quickly  that 
Murphy  saw  them  start  and  had  to  run  at  his  best  speed  to  keep  from 
being  left  behind  ! Fuller  probably  made  a mistake  in  not  taking  the 
‘‘New  York,"  as  the  other  engine  was  much  inferior,  with  small  wheels 
and  incapable  of  great  speed.  But  the  distance  in  which  they  could  use 
it  turned  out  to  be  short,  and  being  driven  at  the  height  of  its  power,  it  is 
not  probable  that  much  was  lost;  while  the  time  spent  in  changing  the 
freight  trains  out  of  the  way  rnight  have  cost  the  Oostenaula  bridge. 

A mile  or  more  from  Kingston  they  found  some  ties  on  the  track  at 
the  place  where  we  cut  the  wires,  and  were  obliged  to  stop  and  throw 
them  off.  Of  course  an  effort  was  made  to  send  a message  from  Kingston 
to  Chattanooga  as  soon  as  Fuller  arrived,  but  we  had  cut  the  wire  too 
quickly  for  them.  Continuing  on  the  way,  they  came  in  a few  minutes  to 
the  place  where  the  track  had  been  torn  up.  A Southern  account  says 
that  sixty  yards  had  been  removed;  but  this  is  a gross  exaggeration. 
Track  lifting  was  only  intended  to  make  the  road  temporarily  impassable, 
and  one  broken  rail  answered  this  purpose  as  well  as  a dozen.  Had  there 
9 


130 


Daring  a7id  Suffering. 


been  a regular  track  layer  with  the  pursuers^  a rail  would  not  have  caused 
a great  delay;  but  it  was  in  all  cases  sufficient  for  its  purpose  on  this  day. 

Though  we  had  heard  the  whistle  of  the  pursuers,  they  neither  heard 
nor  saw  us  at  this  point,  and  came  near  wreck;  but  they  were  on  their  guard 
because  of  the  similar  break  which  had  caused  their  fall  fro  the  hand-car^ 
and  by  great  effort  and  reversing  the  engine,  they  were  able  to  prevent 
an  accident.  But  their  progress  seemed  to  be  completely  barred.  As 
usual  no  one  but  Fuller  and  Murphy  seemed  to  have  the  least  idea  of  what 
to  do;  in  fact  during  the  whole  day  every  hopeful  plan  of  pursuit  sprung 
from  their  indomitable  energy.  Too  much  credit  (from  the  Confederate 
point  of  view)  cannot  be  given  to  them.  They  were  already  practiced  in 
foot  travel,  and  once  more  set  out  in  that  manner;  all  the  rest,  remain- 
ing behind,  had  no  further  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  the  day.  But  at 
full  speed  the  two  pedestrians  pushed  over  the  slippery  and  muddy  road 
and  through  the  driving  rain.  They  felt  sure  of  finding  the  freight  train, 
or  the  passenger,  either  at  Adairsville  or  further  on  this  side.  Should 
they  be  obliged  to  take  the  terribly  fatiguing  run  to  the  station  itself 
they  would  probably  be  too  late;  but  they  were  determined  to  do  their 
utmost. 

Notice  how  all  things  seemed  to  work  against  us  on  this  eventful  day. 
If  we  had  not  stopped  to  take  up  this  rail  at  all,  we  would  have  had  abundant 
time  to  reach  the  freight  and  start  it  south,  as  we  did;  and  the  freight 
train  running  south,  and  Fuller’s  train  running  north  at  full  speed  would 
have  produced  a frightful  collision,  which  could  scarcely  have  been  pre- 
vented; for  the  freight  man  had  been  induced  to  set  out  by  the  repre- 
sentations of  Andrews,  and  Fuller,  on  his  part,  probably  believed  that 
Andrews  was  still  running  on  slow  time  and  had  not  reached  the  station 
above.  The  stopping  to  lift  this  rail,  as  it  turned  out.,  was  probably  the 
greatest  mistake  Andrews  made.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  freight  had 
waited  for  Fuller,  so  great  a delay  would  have  ensued  that  the  Oostenaula 
bridge,  which  we  were  now  very  near,  would  have  been  in  flames. 

But  the  pursuing  pair  had  scarcely  been  well  breathed  in  this  third  foot- 
race, when  they  heard  the  welcome  whistle  of  a locomotive.  Fuller,  who 
was  ahead,  stopped  in  a place  where  the  view  was  clear,  and  gave  the 
signal  of  danger;  the  freight  was  checked  up  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
while  Fuller  told  in  a few  words  what  had  happened,  and  what  he  wanted, 
Murphy  who  had  been  distanced,  came  up,  and  they  sprang  on  bpard, 
and  took  command.  With  all  the  power  of  the  “ Texas,”  which  was  one 
of  the  very  best  engines  on  the  road,  and  the  best  the  pursuers  had  yet 
obtained,  they  pushed  backward  toward  Adairsvifle,  and  learned  that 
Andrews  had  left  a few  minutes  before.  Fuller  took  his  place  on  the  last 
freight  car  which  was  now  the  front  of  the  train,  and  directed  their  move- 
ments. Murphy  was  the  official  superior  of  all  the  engineers  on  the  road. 


An  Appallmg  Struggle.  131 

He  stood  by  the  lever  to  render  assistance  when  needed  and  all  his  orders 
were  cheerfully  obeyed. 

It  was  not  long  till  they  were  back  at  the  station,  when  Fuller  jumped 
off,  threw  the  switch  over  to  turn  the  freight  cars  which  were  detached  at 
the  same  time  and  allowed  to  run  with  their  own  momentum  on  the  side 
track;  and  then  as  the  last  one  passed  by^  he  changed  the  switch  back, 
sprung  on  the  engine  and  outran  the  cars  which  continued  to  move  parallel 
with  him  ! This  was  quick  work.  They  now  had  a comparatively  small  crew, 
but  they  were  all  armed  with  guns,  and  loaded  on  the  tender  and  engine' 
alone.  It  was  true  that  the  engine  was  reversed,  but  this,  while  it  is  somewhat 
less  handy,  does  not  diminish  strength  or  speed.  The  first  question  which 
confronted  the  pursuers  was  whether  to  risk  running  up  to  Calhoun  in  the 
face  of  the  delayed  passenger  train.  They  did  not  hesitate,  as  the  way 
had  been  made  clear  for  them.  It  was  less  than  ten  minutes  since 
Andrews  had  left,  promising  to  run  slowly  and  carefully,  and  if  he  kept 
his  word,  he  could  be  overhauled  and  enclosed  between  the  two  trains 
before  he  could  reach  Calhoun;  and  even  if  he  did  not,  the  danger  of 
collision  would  be  borne  by  the  train  ahead  and  not  by  the  following  one. 
The  marvellous  flight  which  Andrews  had  made  was  not,  of  course,  dreamed 
of.  Had  Andrews  been  able  to  persuade  the  passenger-conductor  to  push 
out,  as  he  did  the  freight-conductor,  Fuller's  and  Murphy’s  career  would 
have  ended. 

These  indomitable  men  now  had  an  excellent  engine  and  ordered  full 
speed.  The  whole  distance  of  nine  miles  was  made  in  little  more  than 
ten  minutes  ! There  was  no  obstruction  of  any  kind,  and  they  trusted  to 
the  fact  of  being  so  close  behind  Andrews  to  assure  them  against  any 
lifted  rail. 

Before  they  reached  Calhoun,  however,  Andrews  was  released  from 
his  perilous  position.  After  he  had  chatted  with  the  conductor  and  en- 
gineer of  the  down  freight  for  some  time  and  found  them  indisposed  to 
go  on  their  way,  he  said  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  and  positive  manner: 
“ I must  press  on  without  more  delay.  Pull  your  engine  ahead  and  let  me 
out.^’  When  the  order  was  given  in  this  direct  form  they  were  obliged  to 
obey,  or  give  a good  reason  for  refusing;  and  it  may  be  considered  cer- 
tain that  if  they  had  delayed,  though  Andrews  did  not  threaten  violence, 
yet  our  engineers  would  at  once  have  taken  control,  and  executed  the 
order,  probably  not  without  bloodshed. 

At  last  we  are  on  the  main  track  with  no  train  between  us  and 
Chattanooga  ! and  if  the  reports  from  Huntsville  are  true  there  is  no 
obstruction  west  of  that  town,  as  all  travel  is  cut  off  by  Mitchel.  There 
is  reason  for  exultation  on  our  part.  An  open  road  ahead  and  scores 
of  miles  of  obstructed  and  broken  track  behind  us  ! For  the  whole  morn- 
ing we  have  been  running  with  a train  right  in  front  of  us,  or  waiting 


132 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


for  a belated  one.  We  had  passed  five  trains,  all  but  one  either  extras 
or  behind  time — a wonderful  achievement  ! now  the  way  is  clear  to  our 
own  lines;  and  the  “ Y ’*  at  Chattanooga  is  no  more  difficult  of  passage 
than  any  of  the  many  side  tracks  we  have  already  successfully  encoun- 
tered. No  small  amount  of  the  exultation  we  felt  on  first  taking  the  train 
was  again  ours,  as  we  rushed  rapidly  on  for  a mile  or  more,  and  then 
stopped  to  cut  the  wire,  and  to  take  up  a rail  (as  we  hoped)  for  the  last 
time.  The  Oostenaula  bridge  was  just  ahead,  and  when  that  was  burned, 
we  would  simply  run  from  bridge  to  bridge,  firing  them  as  we  passed;  and 
no  more  of  this  hard  drudgery  of  track  raising  and  still  more  terrible  work 
of  sitting  silent  and  housed  in  a dark  car  waiting  for  trains  to  arrive  ! We 
had  heard  the  whistle  of  a following  tram  a dozen  miles  back;  but  it 
probably  was  one  from  Kingston,  and  if  not  wrecked  by  the  broken  rail, 
would  return  there  for  tools.  We  knew  nothing  of  Fuller^s  and  Murphy’s 
pursuit,  and  if  we  had  been  told  the  full  story,  as  already  narrated,  we 
would  have  thought  it  too  wild  and  improbable  even  for  good  fiction. 

But  it  was  expedient  to  take  up  this  one  rail  more,  before  we  finally 
changed  our  mode  of  operations.  A piece  of  torn  track  had  been  put  be- 
fore or  after  every  train  that  we  had  met.  It  was  well  to  put  a broken 
road  behind  this  passenger  train  also,  that  it  might  not  turn  back  after  us 
on  any  sudden  suspicious  freak,  and  come  upon  us  while  working  at  the 
Resaca  (Oostenaula)  bridge.  The  crisis  of  our  fate  approached,  and  we 
believed  it  would  be  triumphantly  passed.  Nothing  had  as  yet  been  lost 
but  time,  and  if  we  were  fairly  prosperous  for  fifteen  minutes  more,  all 
would  be  regained,  and  the  fulfillment  of  all  our  hopes,  as  far  as  human 
prospects  could  reach,  be  in  our  own  hands. 

No  wonder  that  we  worked  gladly  and  cheerfully.  Scott  climbed  the 
pole  with  even  more  than  usual  agility.  Some  worked  at  the  taking  in  of 
all  kinds  of  combustibles,  for  we  wished  to  be  well  provided  for  the  bridge. 
Every  stick  and  piece  of  wood  we  could  get  hold  of  was  soaking  wet,  but 
by  breaking  and  whittling,  they  could  be  made  to  add  to  a flame,  and 
from  the  engine,  which  was  kept  full  of  wood  for  the  purpose,  we  could  give 
a good  start  to  a fire.  We  had  only  one  iron  bar  to  drive  out  our  spikes; 
a bent  “crow’s  foot”  would  have  been  worth  more  than  its  weight  in  gold; 
but  we  hammered  away  with  what  we  had,  and  spike  after  spike  was  drawn. 
Here  I saw  Andrews  show  real  impatience  for  the  first — I am  not  sure  but  I 
may  say  the  only — time.  He  had  altered  his  dress,  throwing  off  the  cape 
and  high  hat  that  he  wore  while  at  stations,  and  had  a small  cap  on,  which 
greatly  changed  his  appearance.  The  nearing  of  the  time  when  his  plans 
would  all  culminate  in  success  seemed  to  thrill  and  inspire  him.  He 
snatched  the  iron  bar  out  f the  hands  of  the  man  who  was  wielding  it, 
and — though  we  had  strong  and  practiced  workmen  in  our  party — I had  not 
before  seen  the  blows  rained  down  with  such  precision  and  force.  Some 


An  Appalling  Struggle, 


133 


say  that  he  uttered  an  oath  on  this  occasion,  but  though  standing  by  I did 
not  hear  him:  the  only  words  I did  hear  being  directions  about  the  work, 
given  in  his  mild  tones  but  with  quite  an  emphatic  ring  of  triumph  in 
them.  He  wanted  that  rail  up  in  the  fewest  number  of  seconds  and  then 
— the  bridge  ! There  were  several  using  a lever  of  green  wood  and  trying 
to  tear  up  the  end  of  a rail  from  which  the  spikes  had  not  yet  been  drawn; 
but  the  lever  bent  too  much,  and  a fence  rail  was  added  and  we  lifted 
again.  At  that  instant,  loud  and  clear  from  the  South,  came  the  whistle  of 
the  engine  in  pursuit ! It  was  near  by  and  running  at  lightning  speed. 
The  roll  of  a thousand  thunders  could  not  have  startled  us  more. 

What  could  we  do  ? At  the  end  where  we  had  been  prying  the  rail  it  was 
bent,  but  it  was  still  too  firmly  fixed  for  us  to  hope  to  lift  it,  or  break  it 
like  the  last.  But  we  did  the  best  in  our  power;  we  bent  the  loose  end 
up  still  further,  and  put  the  fence  rail  carefully  under  it  with  the  hope 
that  it  would  compel  the  pursuers  either  to  stop  and  adjust  it,  or  throw 

♦ them  from  the  track,  and  then  piled  into  the  car  and  engine  with  a celerity 
born  of  long  practice,  and  with  one  of  its  old  bounds  that  jerked  us  from 
our  feet, — for  Brown  and  Knight  threw  the  valve  wide  open, — the  “ Gen- 
eral bore  us  rapidly  on.  The  impatience  of  Andrews  to  reach  the  bridge 
had  not  been  diminished  by  the  appearance  of  this  new  element  in  the 
situation. 

^ Here  our  pursuers  were  greatly  startled.  Their  story  had  been  swiftly 
told  when  they  reached  Calhoun,  and  the  engine  and  tender  of  the  passen- 
ger car  with  a reinforcement  of  armed  men  followed  them  up  the  road. 
Fuller  stood  on  the  tender  of  his  own  train,  which  was  in  front,  gazing 
intently  forward  to  see  if  there  was  any  dangerous  obstacle  or  break  in 
the  track,  such  as  they  had  already  many  times  encountered.  Soon  he 
beheld  us  at  work  with  feelings  which  cannot  be  described.  Before  get- 

^ ting  near  enough  to  see  our  number,  we  had  mounted  and  sped  away,  and 
he  saw  with  exultation  that  we  had  not  broken  the  track,  and  that  there 
seemed  to  be  no  obstruction.  With  full  speed  he  ran  on  till  too  close  to 
stop,  and  then  beheld  what  he  believed,  at  first,  to  be  a broken  rail  and 
gave  himself  up  for  lost;  but  it  was  on  the  inside  of  a curve ^ and  as  an 
engine  running  rapidly,  throws  most  of  its  weight  on  the  outside,  when  he 

♦ ran  on  it,  the  bent  rail  was  only  straitened  down,  and  they  were  safely  on 
the  other  side  of  this  danger.  The  next  train  which  followed  almost  im- 
mediately after,  did  not  notice  the  obstruction  at  all  There  is  scarcely  a 
doubt  that  two  minutes  more,  enabling  us  to  finish  getting  a rail  up  at 
this  point,  would  have  given  the  control  of  the  day  into  our  hands,  for 
tfiere  were  no  more  trains  on  the  road  either  to  delay  us  or  to  be  turned 

^ back  after  us.  But  as  it  was,  the  “ Texas  ” pressed  on  after  us  without 
the  slightest  loss  of  headway. 

The  coming  of  this  train  before  the  track  was  torn  up  was  by  far  the 


134 


Daring  and  Suffering, 

most  serious  misfortune  that  we  had  ye!:  encountered.  But  might  it  not 
still  be  overcome  ? The  plan  which  first  presented  itself  to  the  undismay- 
ed spirit  of  Andrews  was  to  use  two  of  our  cars  as  projectiles  and  hurl 
them  back  at  the  enemy.  This  was  more  in  accordance  with  his  genius, 
which  delighted  in  strategy,  than  the  plain  course  which  most  of  the 
soldiers  would  have  preferred;  that  is,  a straight  out-and-out  fight  with 
the  pursuing  train.  Accordingly  our  engine  was  reversed — could  we  have 
selected  a down  grade  the  chance  of  success  would  have  been  better,  but 
we  were  coming  so  near  the  bridge  that  we  could  not  delay  to  choose — and 
when  the  speed  in  this  way  had  been  checked  and  the  pursuing  train  was 
quite  close  and  still  going  fast,  we  uncoupled,  and  bounded  on  again. 
But  the  skillful  pursuers  were  not  thus  to  be  beaten.  They  saw  what  we 
were  about,  and  checking  their  headv/ay  when  the  car  was  dropped,  they 
also  reversed,  and  coming  up  to  it  with  moderate  force,  coupled  on,  which 
was  easier  because  their  tender  was  in  front. 

The  bridge  was  now  just  at  hand.  What  should  we  do?  To  leaVe  it 
intact  was  to  be  thought  of  only  in  the  direst  necessity.  We  had  carried 
our  ammunition— the  fuel  we  had  gathered — into  our  last  car,  and  while 
it  was  not  as  good  as  we  would  have  liked,  yet  in  a little  time  we  could 
make  a fire.  We  now  punched  a hole  in  the  back  end  of  our  car — in  fact 
we  had  done  this  in  passing  from  one  car  to  another  previous  to  dropping 
the  last  one, — and  now  began  to  let  ties  fall  out  on  the  track  while  we 
ran.  They  followed  us  “end  over  end  ” and  showed  a most  perverse 
disposition  to  get  off  the  track,  but  a few  remained.  This  moderated  the 
speed  of  the  pursuing  engine,  which  was  a help  that  we  sorely  needed, 
for  it  was  now  evident  that  they  either  had  a faster  engine  than  ours,  or 
better  fuel.  The  latter  was  certainly  the  case,  for  we  had  been  using  wood 
very  rapidly  without  any  opportunity  for  a long  time  past  to  replenish  it. 

The  first  feeling  of  despondency  of  the  whole  route  took  possession 
of  us  as  we  approached  the  bridge  with  our  pursuer  close  behind.  The 
situation  was  in  every  way  unfavorable  for  us.  If  we  passed  by  without 
leaving  it  in  ashes  we  felt  that  one  important  part  of  our  business  would 
be  undone  even  if  we  were  completely  successful  afterwards  in  evading 
pursuit  and  destroying  the  Chickamauga  bridges. 

Murphy  expresses  the  opinion  that  we  made  a great  mistake  at  this 
point.  There  was  at  this  time  a long  and  high  wooden  trestle  by  which 
the  Resaca  bridge  is  approached.  As  we  came  near,  we  “slowed  up,”  and 
right  in  the  middle  of  this  trestle  we  dropped  our  last  car.  Murphy  says 
that  if  we  had  but  thrown  it  across  the  track  the  bridge  would  have  been 
at  our  mercy,  as  well  as  all  the  bridges  above.  He  is  right,  but  the  diffi- 
culties in  doing  this  were  greater  than  he  thinks.  To  pull  or  push  the  car 
off  by  means  of  the  engine,  involved  some  risk  of  getting  the  engine  itself 
off,  which  would  have  been  fatal.  VVe  had  no  good  means  of  moving  it 


An  Appalling  Struggle, 


135 


in  any  other  way,  and  the  element  of  time  was  all  important.  The  pur- 
suers were  right  behind,  and  while  they  could  not  have  fired  on  us  at 
effective  range,  they  could  very  quickly  have  alarmed  the  town  ahead  of 
us,  and  then  the  track  could  have  been  obstructed  to  prevent  our  passage. 
It  is  easier  to  imagine  what  might  have  been  done,  than  actually  to  do 
it,  even  if  the  circumstances  were  repeated  ! 

There  was  no  opportunity  to  turn  and  fight  at  this  point.  The  town 
of  Resaca  was  within  a few  hundred  yards  of  the  bridge,  and  any  noise 
would  bring  help  from  that  quarter.  Besides  our  pursuers  were  armed 
with  guns,  and  our  only  chance  of  getting  at  close  quarters  was  by  an 


OOSTENAULA  BrIDGE. 


ambuscade.  Had  the  day  been  dry,  we  could  have  flung  faggots  fron. 
the  engine  upon  the  roof,  but  now  a fire  even  on  the  inside  of  the  large  frame 
bridge,  would  require  careful  nursing.  With  a station  only  a few  hundred 
feet  ahead,  where  the  track  might  be  so  easily  obstructed,  and  with  the 
guns  of  the  pursuers  behind,  we  could  not  give  time  for  this;  so  we  slowly 
and  reluctantly  passed  over  the  bridge,  after  dropping  the  car,  and  on 
through  the  village  of  Resaca.  The  pursuers  ‘‘took  up*'  this  car  as 
they  had  done  the  other,  and  pushed  them  both  through  the  bridge,  and 
left  them  on  the  Resaca  side  track. 

It  may  be  well  to  notice  here  how  our  ignorance  of  the  enemy  and  his 
ignorance  of  us  both  inured  to  his  advantage.  There  had  been  already 
many  intimations  among  us  that  it  would  be  well  to  turn  and  fight  rather 


136 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


than  to  be  chased  any  further.  Had  the  real  weakness  of  the  enemy  on 
the  first  train  been  known,  Andrews  would  have  certainly  ordered  the 
attack.  On  the  other  hand,  if  Fuller’s  party  had  known  how  strong  we  ^ 
were  he  could  not  have  induced  them  to  continue  the  chase,  even  if  the 
resolute  conductor  himself  had  not  been  willing  to  wait  for  help.  It  was 
believed  at  first  that  we  were  but  four — the  number  on  the  engine.  The 
estimate  was  never  raised  higher  than  eight,  Murphy  suggesting  to  Fuller 
even  then,  that  it  would  be  better  to  wait  for  the  tram  behind  and  take 
on  more  men.  But  Fuller  resolved  to  persevere  and  at  least  delay  us  at  ^ 
the  risk  of  his  own  life.  Had  it  been  known  that  we  were  twenty,  he  and 
his  slender  band  would  not  have  been  guilty  of  the  madness  of  crowding 
on  nearly  twice  their  number,  even  if  better  armed,  and  sure  of  help  at 
every  station.  But  this  madness,  this  unreasonable  pursuit^  the  result  of 
imperfect  knowledge,  served  them  well. 

After  passing  Resaca,  we  again  forced  our  pursuers  back  by  dropping 
ties  on  the  track,  and  not  knowing  whether  it  was  a telegraph  station  or  ^ 
not,  we  again  cut  the  wires.  No  obstructions  were  placed  on  the  track  at 
this  point,  but  it  was  on  a curve,  and  taking  a rail  which  had  been  bent 
in  lifting  it  I placed  one  end  under  the  rail  at  one  side  and  the  other  pro- 
jecting diagonally  toward  the  train  on  the  other  side.  The  pursuers  saw 
us  start,  but  seeing  no  obstructions  they  ran  at  a good  rate  of  speed  right 
over  this  rail  ! Their  escape  was  marvellous.  Persons  on  the  tender  | 
jumped  a foot  high,  and  one  of  Fuller’s  staunchest  helpers  demanded 
that  the  train  be  stopped  to  let  him  off ! he  wanted  no  more  such  running 
as  that ! But  Fuller,  though  considering  this  the  greatest  of  their  dangers, 
would  not  stop;  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  keep  a closer  lookout 
than  he  had  done. 

But  what  conjectures  did  we  form  to  account  for  the  unexpected  ap-  ^ 
pearance  of  this  pursuing  train  ? The  story  as  given  to  the  reader  was 
totally  unknown  then,  and  we  were  greatly  perplexed.  The  matter  had 
great  practical  importance.  Was  this  engine  started  after  us  by  an  au- 
thority which  had  also  alarmed  the  whole  road  ahead  of  us  ? If  so,  we 
would  do  well  to  abandon  our  efforts  for  the  destruction  of  bridges,  and 
seek  our  own  safety.  Of  one  thing  we  felt  sure:  it  must  have  been  one 
of  the  trains  that  we  had  passed  at  Calhoun  or  Adairsville  that  was  fol-  ^ 
lowing;  but  why?  There  were  three  possibilities  only  to  choose  from. 
The  first  and  least  serious  was  that  the  suspicious  conductor  at  Calhoun, 
who  had  been  so  unwilling  to  let  us  pass,  had  determined  that  we  were 
impostors,  and  at  his  own  motion  had  set  out  to  follow  us.  If  so,  we 
would  have  to  deal  only  with  him,  and  might  yet  accomplish  a part  of  our 
work.  Or  it  might  be  that  the  freight  had  run  to  where  we  had  broken  \ 
up  the  track,  had  escaped  wreck,  and,  turning  back,  had  telegraphed  ahead 
before  we  had  cut  the  wire.  In  this  case  all  the  road  ahead  would  be  ^ 


An  Appalling  Struggle. 


137 


alarmed,  and  this  was  probable  indeed.  Or,  once  more,  a messenger 
might  have  been  sent  down  to  Marietta  from  Big  Shanty,  and  a dispatch 
sent  to  Atlanta  and  around  the  whole  circuit  of  the  Confederacy  back  to 
Chattanooga,  and,  before  the  wires  had  been  cut,  to  one  of  the  trains  we 
had  passed,  with  orders  to  follow  us  closely  and  prevent  us  from  damag- 
ing the  road  until  a train  could  be  sent  out  from  Chattanooga  to  secure 
our  capture.  If  either  of  these  latter  conjectures  were  true — and  they 
were  the  most  probable — our  race  was  almost  run  ! We  would  be  obliged 
to  leave  the  road,  and  essay  the  far  more  difficult  task  of  escaping  on 
foot.  If  Andrews  thought  either  of  these  probably  true,  it  would  fully 
account  for  his  reluctance  in  ordering  the  capture  of  a pursuing  train;  for 
such  a capture  could  do  no  permanent  good,  while  every  one  of  his  party 
wounded  in  the  fight  would  be  disabled  for  the  inevitable  and  terrible 
land  journey  ahead,  and  would  surely  be  lost.  In  view  of  the  almost 
hopeless  situation  as  it  appeared  to  us  then — far  worse  than  the  reality, 
for  the  road  ahead  had  not  been  warned  as  yet — the  heroic  constancy  of 
Andrews,  who  continued  to  put  forth  every  possible  effort  as  coolly  and 
quietly  as  if  success  had  been  within  his  grasp,  is  made  brightly  conspicu- 
ous. There  were  now  three  chasing  trains;  first.  Fuller  and  his  men  with 
the  locomotive  of  the  down  freight;  second,  the  Calhoun  passenger,  which 
had  immediately  followed  him  and  was  not  very  far  behind;  and  last,  the 
train  started  from  Marietta,  and  loaded  with  soldiers. 

For  a time  after  leaving  Resaca  we  did  not  run  very  fast.  It  was 
evident  that  we  could  not  get  away  from  the  engine  behind  us  by  mere 
speed;  the  only  hope  was  in  some  way  to  disable  them,  or  to  obstruct  the 
track;  ^nd  we  were  obliged  to  be  saving  of  our  fuel.  But  now  we  were 
approaching  Green’s,  a wood  station  near  Tilton,  and  we  were  determined 
to  have  a fresh  supply  at  any  cost.  So  the  last  wood  in  the  box,  with  a 
little  of  our  precious  oil,  was  shoved  into  the  furnace,  and  Brown,  who 
had  now  taken  the  throttle,  turned  on  a full  head  of  steam,  and  we  once 
more  flew  along  the  track.  At  the  same  time,  we  who  were  in  the  box- 
car, put  a line  of  ties  along  its  floor  and  kept  them  moving  to  the  hole  in 
the  end,  and  let  them  drop,  as  fast  as  possible  on  the  track.  This  was 
rapidly  exhausting  our  ammunition,  but  it  was  effectual  in  enforcing  slow- 
ness and  caution  upon  the  pursuers.  Fuller  could  not  run  rapidly  in  the 
face  of  such  a succession  of  obstacles.  He  did  the  best  he  could,  giving 
the  signal  to  reverse  whenever  he  saw  a tie  on  the  track,  jumping  off  and 
removing  it,  and  ©n  again,  when  the  engineer  would  start  with  a full  head 
of  steam,  and  reduce  speed,  as  the  engine  gathered  headway  to  such  a 
rate  as  would  admit  of  stopping  in  time,  when  another  tie  was  seen.  It 
was  fearfully  perilous;  and  the  only  wonder  is  that  he  was  not  wrecked 
long  before  the  chase  was  done.  But  he  probably  understood  that  we 
were  racing  for  the  wood-yard  ahead. 


138 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


In  Sight. — Ties  thrown  from  the  Car. 


An  Appalling  Struggle, 


139 


When  we  reached  it  there  was  no  lingering  in  the  work  of  loading  up. 
The  wood  was  piled  in  frantically  by  men  working  for  life;  but  before  we 
rxd  half  filled  the  tender  we  again  heard  our  relentless  follower.  So 
ager  were  we  to  get  the  largest  possible  supply  of  wood  that  we  did  not 
take  their  first  whistle  as  a sufficient  intimation  to  start.  Then  came 
scream  after  scream  of  the  most  unearthly  character,  obviously  designed 


t At  the  Wood  Station. 

to  alarm  the  keeper  of  the  wood -yard  that  he  might  hinder  us  from  getting 
a full  supply.  But  this  did  not  discourage  us,  for  even  when  Andrew 
reluctantly  gave  the  word  to  come  on  board,  Wilson,  who  as  fireman  had 
great  appreciation  of  the  need  of  fuel,  lingered  still  to  get  a huge  armloaci 
more,  and  the  enemy  seeing  our  engine  standing  there,  were  actually 
^ obliged  to  “ slow  up  ” to  avoid  the  collision  that  .seemed  inevitable.  How- 
ever we  did  not  wait  for  them  to  get  close  enough  to  use  their  shotguns — 


140 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


at  least  not  to  any  effect,  though  Wilson,  in  his  published  account,  is 
quite  positive  that  some  guns  were  fired.  He  says:  * 

“ We  had,  however,  secured  only  a partial  supply  when  the  chasing  train  came  in 
sight,  loaded  with  armed  soldiers.  Our  pursuers  were  worked  up  to  an  infuriated  pitch  of 
excitement,  and  rent  the  very  air  with  their  screeches  and  yells  as  they  came  in  sight  of 
us,  like  dogs  when  the  quarry  is  sprung.  They  opened  on  us  at  long  range  with  mus- 
ketry. The  bullets  rattled  around  us  like  hail,  but  fortunately  none  of  our  party  was  hit.” 

But  we  now  had  a good  head  of  steam,  and  with  a joyful  bound,  our 
engine,  as  if  refreshed  from  its  rest,  sped  on  again.  We  had  been  careful 
to  so  obstruct  the  track  that  the  enemy  was  obliged  to  come  to  a full 
halt,  and  thus  give  us  time  to  once  more  get  out  of  sight. 

We  passed  Tilton  in  safety,  and  the  water  station,  which  at  that  time 
was  at  a different  place  from  the  wood-yard,  was  soon  reached.  Our  sup- 
ply of  this  necessity  was  low,  and  without  it  our  progress  would  be  at  once 
arrested.  We  stopped,  adjusted  the  pipes,  told  the  powder  story — although 
from  the  battered  appearance  of  our  only  car,  with  a hole  knocked  in 
each  end,  that  story  was  no  longer  plausible,  but  it  answered  for  the 
moment,  and  we  succeeded  in  getting  all  the  water  we  needed.  Had  any 
objection  been  made,  we  would  have  taken  it  by  force;  and  the  assurance 
with  which  we  went  to  work  aided  in  securing  confidence.  Before  the  tank 
was  full  the  pursuers  came  in  sight,  but  seeing  us,  they  ran  slowly,  and  as 
a party  of  our  men  had  run  back  and  put  some  obstructions  on  the  track, 
out  of  gun-shot,  they  were  obliged  to  come  to  a full  stop  there,  thus  giving 
us  the  time  needed.  Then  we  mounted  and  sped  on  toward  Dalton. 

It  was  advisable  at  once  to  get  decisively  ahead  of  the  pursuers  before 
reaching  this  town,  which  might  present  serious  difficulties.  As  there 
were  no  bridges  to  burn  now  for  a considerable  distance,  the  only  other 
thing  was  to  try  once  more  to  tear  up  the  track.  The  engine  was  again  in 
good  running  condition,  and  we  rushed  rapidly  forward,  putting  frequent 
obstructipns  on  the  track — mostly  by  dropping  ties  or  sticks  of  firewood, 
but  in  one  or  two  instances  by  reversing  the  engine,  jumping  out  and  piling 
up  obstructions.  At  a favorable  place  we  stopped  again  for  a more  per- 
manent break. 

Long  practice  had  made  us  skillful  in  this  matter,  and  the  last  two 
stops  had  shown  us  that  the  enemy  could  not  run  upon  us  without  great 
care.  So  we  divided  at  once  into  four  parties.  Scott  and  a companion 
cut  the  telegraph:  Knight  carefully  inspected  the  engine;  two  or  three  ran 
back  just  out  of  gun-shot,  and  heaped  obstructions  on  the  track,  while  the 
remainder  worked  with  might  and  main  in  taking  up  a rail.  It  was  here 
that  a little  occurrence  took  place  that  has  been  much  misrepresented.  A 
Southern  account,  widely  copied,  says  that  Andrews’s  men  almost  mutini- 


* Adventures  of  Alf,  Wilson,  Toledo,  O.,  1880. 


An  Appalling  Struggle. 


141 

ed  against  him  at  this  place.  The  facts  are  these:  the  writer  and  the  men 
in  the  box-car  had  come  to  feel  that  there  was  no  need  of  running  so  long 
before  the  pursuing  train,  which  we  could  see  to  be  a short  one,  with  pro- 
bably not  much  if  any  greater  force  than  our  own.  Now  while  as  many 
were  at  the  rail  as  could  find  places  to  work — the  process  of  lifting  it  with 
our  imperfect  tools  was  very  slow,  requiring  more  than  five  minutes — I 
said  to  Andrews,  “ We  can  capture  that  train,  if  you  are  willing.*^ 

“ How?’^  he  asked.  I answered: 

“Find  a good  place  on  a curve  where  there  are  plenty  of  bushes” — (as 
the  road  had  numberless  curves,  and  ran  mostly  through  woods,  this  was 
easy);  “then  let  us  put  on  some  obstructions  and  hide;  one  of  our  en- 
gineers can  run  ahead  a mile  or  two,  and  come  back  after  us;  when  the 
enemy  stop  to  clear  the  track,  we  will  r-ush  on  them,  and  when  we  have 
captured  them,  our  other  engineer  can  reverse  their  engine  and  send  it 
in  a hurry  down  the  track  to  clear  the  road  of  any  more  trains  that  may 
be  following.” 

Andrews  said,  in  his  quiet  way,  “It  is  a good  plan.  It  is  worth  try- 
ing,^’ and  looked  around  in  a meditative  manner  as  if  weighing  the  chances. 
Then  the  enemy’s  whistle  sounded,  we  saw  them  rush  up  to  the  obstruc- 
tions we  had  placed  on  the  track,  stop  by  reversing,  and  labor  as  frantical- 
ly to  clear  the  road  as  we  were  doing  in  trying  to  raise  the  rail. 

But  our  efforts  were  in  vain.  The  stubborn  spikes  still  held,  and  as 
they  were  ready  to  move  on  again,  Andrews  called  out.  “All  aboard,  ” 
and  we  dashed  away.  That  was  not  the  place  to  make  a fight  as  we  all 
knew,  for  revolvers  against  shot  guns  and  rifles  would  have  had  no  chance 
at  long  range;  but  from  an  ambush  we  could  have  been  climbing  into 
their  engine  and  cars  before  they  could  pick  up  their  guns,  and  the  con- 
flict would  not  have  been  many  minutes  doubtful.  This  was  the  nearest 
we  came  to  what  a Southern  account  called  “ open  mutiny” — a mere  re- 
spectful suggestion  in  the  line  of  our  work.  No  officer  was  ever  more 
heartily  obeyed  than  was  Andrews  during  the  whole  of  this  day,  and  none 
of  us  said  anything  more  about  this  plan  for  the  time,  partly  because  we 
felt  that  our  leader  was  better  able  to  judge  what  was  to  be  done  than  we, 
and  partly  also,  I must  confess,  because  we  thought  he  was  only  waiting 
for  the  best  place  to  turn  on  our  foes,  and  that  we  would  soon  have  all  the 
fighting  we  wanted. 

The  full  speed  of  our  engine  was  again  called  into  requisition  as  we 
neared  Dalton,  and  by  the  aid  of  a few  ties  dropped  on  the  track,  we  were 
once  more  a respectable  distance  ahead.  We  needed  this  interval  badly, 
for  it  was  by  no  means  certain  that  the  switches  at  this  point  would  be 
properly  adjusted  for  our  immediate  passage  through;  and  if  not,  serious 
difficulty  might  arise.  We  might  have  a battle  with  forces  in  front  as  well 
as  in  the  rear,  for  Dalton  was  the  largest  town  we  had  reached  since  leav- 


142 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


ing  Marietta.  Here  a road  diverged  to  Cleveland  in  Tennessee,  where  it 
connects  with  the  main  line  from  Richmond  to  Chattanooga  (see  map), 
thus  making  a large  triangle,  or  as  a railroad  man  would  say  a great  “ Y.’' 
At  that  time  no  telegraph  wires  were  on  this  cross  road;  they  were  not 
put  up  till  1877.  There  were  also  numerous  side  tracks,  and  a proba- 
bility that  cars  might  be  left  standing  on  some  of  them;  and  as  we  had 
more  than  made  up  our  hour’s  delay  at  Kingston,  and  were  now  much 
ahead  of  time,  there  was  no  certainty  of  the  road  being  rightly  adjusted 
for  us.  It  was  therefore  necessary  to  stop  at  the  opening  of  the  switch, 
which  was  fortunately  a little  way  down  from  the  large  passenger  depot, 
which  had  a shed  over  all  the  tracks,  and  through  which  we  had  to  pass. 

Here  the  coolness  and  adroitness  of  Andrews  shone  out  with  pre- 
eminent lustre.  It  is  likely  that  when  we  had  spoken  of  fighting  a little 
way  back,  his  mind  was  occupied  rather  with  the  problem  of  passing  Dal- 
ton, and  of  judging  by  what  took  place  there  whether  the  enemy  was 
warned.  The  train  was  stopped,  he  ran  forward,  observed  that  the  track 
was  olear,  spoke  to  one  or  two  bystanders,  and  was  back  to  his  post  in  an 
exceedingly  short  time.  To  one  or  two  who  had  come  up  even  in  these 
few  seconds,  he  said,  “ I am  running  this  train  through  to  Corinth,  and 
have  no  time  to  spare;”  and  nodded  to  Knight,  who  once  more  put  on 
the  full  force  of  the  engine — there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  care  in 
avoiding  alarm  any  longer,  for  the  distant  whistle  of  the  pursuer  was 
heard — and  we  rushed  at  the  depots  which  then  stood  right  across  the 
double  track,  and  passed  with  fearful  speed  under  its  roof.  Here  Knight 
got  his  most  terrible  fright.  The  darting  into  the  partial  darkness  of  the 
shed  was  bad  enough;  but  just  at  the  far  end,  the  main  track  bends 
sharply  to  the  left,  and  the  swerve  was  so  sudden,  and  the  speed  already 
so  high,  that  Knight  believed  that  he  was  rushing  on  another  side  track 
and  that  in  a moment  would  come  the  awful  crash.  But  instead,  the  en- 
gine instantly  righted  and  he  again  saw  the  track  straight  before  him.  But 
so  quickly  had  we  passed  that  we  could  not  certainly  determine  whethet 
the  people  at  the  station  had  been  warned  or  not ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 


^ THE  FINAL  RACE. 

A MILE  above  Dalton,  which  was  about  as  soon  as  the  headlong  rush 
of  the  engine  could  be  checked,  we  stopped  again,  just  opposite 
to  where  Col.  Jesse  Glenn^s  regiment  of  conscripts  was  encamped 
in  a field.  Their  position,  which  was  within  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
of  us,  was  probably  not  seen  until  we  were  close  to  them,  and  it  was  better 
I to  take  the  risk  of  their  interference  than  to  lose  time  by  seeking  another 
place  for  most  pressing  work.  Again  the  wire  was  cut;  but  it  was  a second 
too  late;  for  a message  had  just  been  flashed  through,  no  doubt  even  as 
Scott  was  bringing  it  down.  The  usual  obstructions  were  here  piled  on 
the  track,  and  we  again  essayed  to  take  up  a rail,  for  the  Chickamauga 
bridges  were  just  above,  and  we  wanted  time  enough  to  get  them  on  fire; 
^ hoping  that  Fuller  would  stop  long  enough  at  Dalton  for  the  purpose  of 
getting  his  telegram  ready,  to  allow  us  to  finish  the  track  lifting.  No 
men  ever  worked  with  more  desperate  energy,  but  all  in  vain;  long  before 
the  rail  was  loose  the  pursuers  were  again  upon  us. 

The  race  recommenced  with  all  its  speed  and  fury.  The  great  tunnel 
was  a short  distance  ahead — a glorious  place  for  an  ambush,  where,  in  the 
darkness,  the  guns  of  the  enemy  would  be  of  little  value.  If  Andrews  was 
^ disposed  to  fight,  there  would  be  the  place  of  all  others  to  do  it.  With 
the  smoke  of  our  train  filling  the  space,  with  our  party  in  ambush  along 
the  sides,  success  would  be  comparatively  sure,  if  they  had  twice  our 
number,  for  of  course  we  could  not  tell  how  much  of  a reinforcement  they 
might  pick  up  at  Dalton.  But  we  kept  right  on  through  the  tunnel  and 
the  village  of  Tunnel  Hill  beyond,  where  we  carefully  drew  down  to  con- 
♦ ceal  our  number  from  the  curious  eyes  of  any  who  might  be  about  the 
station. 

At  Calhoun  Fuller  had  received  a small  but  very  effective  reinforce- 
ment— only  a boy  thirteen  years  old,  but  worth  a dozen  of  ordinary  men — 
by  means  of  one  of  those  apparently  small  circumstances  which  often  in- 
fluence the  course  of  great  events.  At  Chattanooga  the  chief  officers  of 
^ the  road  had  become  alarmed  by  receiving  no  dispatches  from  Atlanta,  or 
the  stations  below  Kingston.  They  therefore  directed  the  young  assistant 
operator  at  Dalton,  to  jump  on  the  passenger  train  just  then  leaving  that 


144 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


station  and  go  south,  sending  them  back  word  at  each  station  passed  till 
the  cause  of  the  trouble  was  found.  He  had  only  got  as  far  as  Calhoun 
when  Andrews  passed^  and  Fuller  in  a moment  after.  The  latter  hardly 
came  to  a stop  before  he  saw  the  operator,  and  called  him,  and  without  a 
word  of  explanation,  seized  his  hand  and  dragged  him  on  the  train.  In 
the  run  up,  however,  he  made  all  the  necessary  explanations,  and  wrote 
out  the  following  dispatch: 

FULLER’S  TELEGRAM. 

“To  Gen.  Leadbetter,  Commander  at  Chattanooga: 

“ My  train  was  captured  this  A.M.  at  Big  Shanty,  evidently  by  Federal  soldiers  in  dis- 
guise. They  are  making  rapidly  for  Chattanooga,  possibly  with  the  idea  of  burning  the 
railroad  bridges  in  their  rear.  If  I do  not  capture  them  in  the  meantime,  see  that  they  do 
not  pass  Chattanooga. 

WILLIAM  A.  FULLER.” 

This  he  gave  to  the  operator,  saying,  “ Don^t  speak  to  anybody  or  lose 
a second  till  you  put  that  through  to  Chattanooga.  Jump  for  the  plat- 
form when  I slow  up,  for  I must  push  on  and  keep  those  Yankees  from 
getting  up  a rail,  or  burning  the  bridges.’* 

It  was  terribly  quick  work.  The  operator  was  at  home  in  the  office, 
and  almost  before  Fuller  had  cleared  the  shed  he  was  at  the  desk  and  the 
first  words  were  over  the  wires.  Whether  they  had  time  to  get  the  whole 
message  over  before  the  cut  is  very  doubtful,  and  not  material,  for  the 
first  two  lines  would  answer  every  purpose.  Had  Fuller  stopped  at  this 
point,  and  himself  went  into  the  office  long  enough  to  set  the  operator  at 
work,  it  is  almost  certain  that  we  would  have  had  the  rail  up,  and  then  all 
the  bridges  above  that  point  would  have  been  burned;  though  it  is  still 
possible  that  enough  of  the  message  might  have  been  pushed  through  to 
secure  our  arrest  in  Chattanooga,  This  was  another  striking  instance  of 
the  many  narrow  margins  on  which  this  day  hinged. 

Just  north  of  Dalton  an  incident  occurred  which  well  illustrates  the 
spirit  that  possessed  the  Confederates  on  this  occasion.  Benjamin  B. 
Flynn,  who  resided  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Dalton,  happened  to  cross 
the  track  just  in  advance  of  our  engine.  Noticing  the  fearful  speed,  he 
raised  his  hand  and  said  to  his  companion,  “ That  engineer  will  be  dis- 
charged for  reckless  running.”  The  gesture  was  seen  and  assumed  to 
be  a signal.  He  joined  in  the  chase  afterward,  but  that  night  when  he 
returned  home,  a detachment  from  the  regiment  where  we  had  torn  up 
the  track,  dragged  him  from  his  bed,  and  tying  him  up,  whipped  him 
almost  to  death  ! ' 


^ See  a full  account  of  the  affair,  with  Flynn’s  own  letter,  in  the  Atlanta  Southern 
Confederacy,  of  April  20th,  1862, 


The  Final  Race, 


H5 


As  Fuller  pressed  on  toward  the  great  tunnel,  even  his  resolute  heart 
almost  died  within  him,  while  all  his  party  began  to  blame  him  for  fool- 
hardiness. He  feared  to  plunge  into  its  dark  depths.  It  was  still  filled 
with  smoke  from  our  engine;  and  he  well  knew  that  if  we  jumped  off  hi 
the  far  end  and  hurled  back  our  locomotive  at  him,  it  meant  a horrible 
death  to  every  one  on  his  train;  and  he  was  by  no  means  sure  that  we 
would  not  do  it.  Mr.  Murphy,  who  had  so  ably  stood  by  him  all  the 
while,  here  counselled  prudence,  pointing  out  all  the  perils  of  an  ambush. 
But  Fuller  realized  as  apparently  no  one  else  did  the  desperate  need  of 
^ pressing  on  to  save  the  road;  and  he  had  made  so  many  escapes  and  been 
so  marvellously  favored,  that  a kind  of  fatalism  took  hold  of  him.  He 
determined  not  to  lose  a minute,  no  matter  what  the  danger  might  be.  It 
may  as  well  be  said  here  that  no  prudent  and  common-sense  kind  of 
pursuit,  such  as  possibly  any  other  man  would  have  employed,  could  have 
had  the  slightest  chance  of  success.  But  even  Fuller  quailed  as  they  dived 
g into  the  cloud  of  smoke  that  hung  around  the  entrance  of  the  tunnel,  and 
held  his  breath  for  a few  seconds  (they  were  still  at  full  speed),  till  he 
saw  with  a sigh  of  relief  a gleam  of  light  ahead  and  knew  that  there  was 
no  other  engine  now  in  the  tunnel  ! On  he  pressed,  for  he  knew  the  value 
of  the  Chickamauga  bridges  ahead  as  well  as  we  did. 

But  for  the  wetness  of  the  day  all  his  efforts  even  yet  would  have  been 
foiled.  We  now  did  what  had  been  in  the  mind  of  Andrews,  doubtless, 
for  some  time  past— what  he  might  have  tried  even  at  the  Oostenaula 
bridge  had  not  the  interval  between  that  and  Calhoun. been  so  fearfully 
short.  He  ordered  us  to  fire  our  last  car,  while  we  were  running.  It  was 
said  easily  but  was  much  harder  to  do.  Everything  about  the  car  was  as 
wet  as  it  well  could  be.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  the  wood  was 
drenched  in  the  tender.  It  was  by  no  small  effort  and  skillful  firing  that 
^ the  engine  fire  could  be  kept  at  the  heat  required  for  fast  running.  But 
desperate  fingers  tore  everything  combustible  loose  from  the  car,  and 
smashed  it  into  kindling.  Some  blazing  faggots  were  stolen  from  the 
engine  and  the  fire  made  to  burn.  The  rapid  motion  with  driving  rain 
was  an  obstacle  at  first,  but  as  we  fed  up  the  blaze  and  sheltered  it  as  well 
as  possible,  it  grew  rapidly  till  soon  but  one  could  stay  on  the  car  and 
t watch  it,  and  all  the  others  crowded  on  the  tender  and  locomotive.  The 
steam  was  now  gradually  shut  off  that  we  might  come  slowly  upon  the 
bridge  and  be  able  to  leave  the  burning  car  just  at  the  right  place.  We 
came  to  a full  stop  at  this  first  Chickamauga  bridge,  a large  one,  and  well 
covered."  Inside  it  was  at  least  dryer  than  on  the  outside,  and  we 
doubted  not  that  with  time  it  would  burn  well.  The  only  question  was, 
“ Will  that  time  be  given  ?”  We  added  almost  the  last  of  our  oil  and  nearly 


" The  bridges  are  of  different  pattern  now  and  would  be  much  more  difficult  to  burn, 
lo 


146 


Daring  and  Suffering, 

the  last  stick  of  wood  knowing  that  a wood  station  was  not  far  ahead, 
and  if  this  bridge  could  be  made  to  burn  well^  we  could  have  all  the  time 
we  wanted  to  get  wood  and  everything  else.  In  fact  we  put  life  itself  on 
this  last  throw,  and  left  ourselves,  in  case  of  failure,  hopelessly  bankrupt. 
For  a considerable  time,  as  it  seemed  to  us,  though  it  must  have  been 
measured  by  seconds  rather  than  minutes,  we  remained  on  the  other  side 


Kindling  a Fire  in  the  Box-Car. 


of  the  fire  watching.  Then  the  inexorable  smoke  of  the  foe  was  seen; 
the  pin  connecting  the  burning  car  with  our  engine  was  pulled  out  and  we 
slowly  moved  on.  Too  clearly  we  saw  the  ruin  of  all  our  hopes  ! To 
wait  the  coming  of  our  foes  was  vain.  They  were  now  near  at  hand,  and 
we  could  see  their  guns,  with  which  they  would  be  able  to  fight  us  at  long 
range.  The  car  which,  if  the  day  had  been  dry,  would  long  before  this 
have  filled  the  bridge  with  a mass  of  roaring  flame,  was  burning  faster  than 


The  Final  Race. 


h; 


the  bridge.  To  take  it  to  another  bridge  was  useless,  for  the  drenching 
rain  would  have  given  it  little  chance  to  burn  away  from  the  shelter  of  the 
bridge.  Very  sadly  we  left  the  tall  column  of  smoke  behind.  The  pur- 
suers saw  the  car,  and  realizing  how  serious  their  loss  would  be  if  it  was 
permitted  to  consume  the  bridge,  they  pushed  right  into  the  smoke  and 
shoved  the  burning  car  on  to  Ringgold  but  a short  distance  ahead,  where 
it  was  left  to  smoke  and  sputter  in  the  rain  on  the  side  track. 

We  were  now  on  what  proved  to  be  our  last  run.  I have  often  been 
asked  if  this  day  was  not  one  of  great  fear  and  terror  on  the  part  of  those 
who  were  engaged  in  the  race.  For  my  own  part,  I cannot  honestly  lay 
claim  to  any  greater  fear  than  I had  often  felt  in  ordinary  military  service. 
No  matter  what  happened,  there  was  the  assurance  that  we  still  had  one  re- 
source— the  power  to  turn  around  and  attack  the  pursuing  foe.  From  the 
beginning,  such  a conflict  had  been  present  to  my  mind  as  a matter  of 
course.  Before  leaving  camp,  this  had  been  reckoned  a natural  con- 
sequence of  our  position.  It  had  been  frequently  talked  of  among  the 
men,  and  not  one  of  them  seemed  to  regard  it  with  any  more  dread  than 
an  ordinary  battle.  We  had  been  careful  to  select  large  revolvers  for  use, 
and  not  for  show,  and  when  we  found  the  enemy  gaining  upon  us,  or  our 
leader’s  plans  for  their  destruction  failing,  we  only  felt  or  said  that  our 
time  to  strike  would  soon  come.  We  did  not  have  the  boastful  feeling 
that  we  were  an  overmatch  for  a large  body  of  southern  soldiers,  for  we 
all  knew  how  desperately  they  could  and  often  did  fight;  but  of  the  ordi- 
nary citizens  gathered  up  as  we  presumed  our  pursuers  were,  or  even  of 
conscripts,  we  had  no  great  fear.  That  we  had  not  our  accustomed  arms 
was  a serious  disadvantage,  but  this  could  be  remedied  by  getting  into 
close  quarters;  and  we  trusted  that  our  leader,  who  had  shown  such  won- 
derful skill  in  management,  would  be  able  to  put  us  within  short’range  of 
the  pursuing  train  where  we  felt  sure  that  we  could  quickly  give  a good 
account  of  it. 

Probably  the  fact  of  Andrews  having  never  been  in  battle,  but  always 
engaged  in  schemes  where  his  own  cool  daring  and  sagacious  planning 
counted  for  everything,  and  mere  force  for  nothing,  made  him  hesitate 
to  order  an  attack  which  would  throw  aside  all  these  qualities  and  deter- 
mine the  issue  by  simple  fighting.  A time  was  near  when  we  would 
firmly  have  disputed  our  leader’s  command  if  there  had  been  an  officer 
of  any  authority  among  us  who  could  have  been  substituted  for  him;  but 
not  until  Andrews  himself  had  definitely  abandoned  his  authority. 

Many  times  the  question  has  been  asked,  “ Why  did  you  not  reverse 
your  engine,  and,  jumping  off,  let  it  drive  back  at  the  enemy?”  What 
good  could  that  have  done  ? If  their  engine  and  our  own  had  been  de- 
stroyed, as  was  very  probable,  together  with  a considerable  number  of 
lives,  we  would  only  have  been  where  we  were  before  we  captured  the 


148 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


engine  at  all,  except  that  the  whole  country  would  have  been  aroused,  and 
our  disguise  thrown  off.  The  second  train’ would  have  been  on  the  ground 
in  a few  minutes  and  the  power  of  pursuit  would  have  been  undiminished. 
We  had  no  wish  to  sacrifice  our  own  engine  until  the  last  effort  possible 
had  been  made.  To  merely  destroy  had  no  charm  for  us,  when  that  de- 
struction could  neither  promote  our  escape  nor  serve  a military  purpose. 

We  crouched  down  as  well  as  we  could  in  the  tender  while  passing  Ring- 
gold,  that  the  enemy  might  not  see  our  number;  and  when  beyond  the  town 
we  arose  and  looked  about  us.  The  country  was  mostly  wooded  and  rough, 
being  much  cut  up  by  the  branches  of  the  swollen  Chickamauga  creek. 
We  had  no  fuel,  though  we  might  have  taken  on  a few  water-soaked  fence 
rails  and  broken  them  to  burn ; but  what  would  have  been  the  use  ? Every 
combustible  scrap  was  carefully  gathered  up  and  thrown  into  the  engine. 
Worst  symptom  of  all,  a large  pair  of  saddle-bags  which  we  had  never 
seen  Andrews  without  from  the  time  of  the  midnight  conference,  together 
with  his  cap  and  some  other  pieces  of  clothing  that  he  did  not  need  for  im- 
mediate use, were  flung  remorselessly  into  the  furnace.  Various  papers  went 
along.  These  were  probably  documents  that  he  feared  would  compro- 
mise himself  or  others  in  case  of  capture.  Such  preparations  were  indeed 
ominous.  But  his  next  command — the  last  he  ever  gave  to  us  as  a party — 
was  more  dreadful  still,  and  for  the  first  time  that  day  there  shot  a pang 
of  mortal  terror  to  my  heart.  Not  the  crash  of  the  engine  down  an  en- 
bankment,  nor  the  coming  of  another  train  of  the  enemy  from  the  north 
shutting  us  between  two  fires,  would  have  caused  such  a sense  of  despair 
and  hopeless  misery  to  steal  over  me.  This  was  the  order,  which,  as  inti- 
mated before,  our  party,  had  they  been  properly  organized,  would  not 
have  obeyed. 

For  our  situation  was  still  far  from  desperate.  Aside  from  the  capture 
of  the  pursuing  train,  which  would  now  have  been  very  difficult  from  the 
fact  that  we  had  neither  fuel  for  rapid  running,  nor  the  obstructions  on 
board  that  were  necessary  to  place  us  far  enough  ahead  for  an  ambuscade, 
there  was  another  plan  to  which  our  leader  was  virtually  pledged,  which 
presented  every  prospect  of  saving  our  own  lives,  though  it  was  now  too 
late  to  accomplish  our  original  purpose.  We  were  some  five  miles  beyond 
Ringgold,  within  a mile  of  Graysville,  or  nineteen  miles  by  the  longest 
railway  course  from  Chattanooga.  From  that  city  westward  to  Bridgeport 
was  twenty-eight  miles  further.  But  the  nearest  way  to  Bridgeport  was 
not  through  Chattanooga,  but  further  south,  and  by  that  route  it  was  not 
distant  more  than  thirty-five  or  forty  miles.  The  direct  course  was  at 
right  angles  with  the  numerous  mountain  ranges  which  here  run  alm*ost 
north  and  south,  a route  over  which  cavalry  could  not  be  used,  and  which 
was  known  to  more  than  one  of  our  party.  Two  comrades  had  pocket  com- 
passes which  would  have  guided  us  in  thick  woods  or  in  cloudy  weather  by 


The  Final  Race, 


149 


day  or  night.  Now  to  have  left  our  train  in  a body,  and  without  delaying  to 
seek  concealment,  to  have  struck  over  the  streams  and  mountains  at  right 
angles,  as  rapidly  as  we  could  go,  would  have  been  our  most  hopeful 
course.  Long  before  night  of  the  next  day  we  would  have  been  safe 
within  Mitchel’s  lines!  Why  not?  How  could  the  enemy  have  cap- 
tured us  ? If  they  sent  cavalry,  these  would  necessarily  have  made  long 
circuits  and  have  been  obliged  to  adhere  to  the  lines  of  the  road,  and  thus 
could  not  have  come  near  us  while  clinging  to  the  valleys  and  mountain  sides. 
Even  in  thick  woods  they  could  not  have  overtaken  us.  If  they  followed 
us  with  a strong  party  on  foot,  we  fleeing  for  our  lives,  would  not  have 
deserved  to  escape,  if  we  could  not  have  held  our  distance  for  forty  miles 
or  more.  If  they  had  ridden  ahead  and  raised  the  whole  country  fora  gen- 
eral man-hunt,  they  would  have  had  only  twenty-four  hours  or  less  to  or- 
ganize it,  and  no  small  party  then  could  have  arrested  twenty  armed  men. 
In  fine,  this  plan  of  escape  through  a mountainous  and  densely  wooded 
country  did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  more  dangerous  than  a cavalry  dash 
on  the  lines  of  the  enemy’s  communications — an  every-day  military  affair. 
Even  if  Mitchel  did  not  prove  to  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bridgeport 
when  we  arrived,  we  would  then  have  been  in  the  loyal  mountainous  dis- 
trict where  we  would  have  met  as  many  friends  as  foes.  All  that  we 
needed  in  the  way  of  provisions  and  guides,  our  force  would  have  en- 
abled us  to  command,  and  even  guns  and  ammunition  could  readily 
have  been  gathered  on  our  way. 

But  all  these  advantages  depended  on  our  keeping  together  under  07ie 
head.  An  army  scattered  and  disorganized  is  lost;  and  our  little  army 
was  no  exception.  The  fatal  command  which  Andrews  now  gave  as  we 
were  huddled  together  in  the  wood-box  of  the  tender,  was  to  jump  off,  one 
by  one,  scatter  in  the  woods,  and  each  man  strive  to  work  his  own  way  back 
to  the  Union  army  1 We  hesitated,  but  had  no  concert  of  action,  no  leader, 
no  time  for  council,  and  the  instinct  of  obedience  was  still  strong  upon 
us;  but  it  was  a fatal  order,  and  led  directly  to  the  calamities  that  followed. 
It  transformed  us  in  a moment  from  a formidable  body  of  picked  soldiers 
ready  to  fight  to  the  death,  into  a scattered  mass  of  fugitive  boys,  bewil- 
dered and  hopeless  in  an  enemy’s  country  ! 

Yet  no  one  of  us  felt  like  censuring  our  leader  for  this  order,  which 
every  one  at  the  moment  believed  to  be  a terrible  mistake.  He  was  not  a 
trained  soldier,  and  had  never  learned  the  power  of  disciplined  men. 
All  that  he  had  achieved  heretofore  had  been  by  the  force  of  individual 
effort;  and  he  never  seemed  so  much  at  home  as  when  thrown  on  his  own 
resources.  In  a most  pathetic  letter,  printed  on  a subsequent  page,  he  ex- 
pressed perfect  confidence  in  his  power,  in  the  absence  of  a certain  con- 
tingency, to  have  eluded  the  enemy  and  secured  his  own  escape;  and 
what  he  felt  confident  of  doing  he  thought  others  could  also  do;  or 


150  Daring  and  Suffering. 

that  if  they  were  captured  he  would  be  in  a position  to  give  them  very 
efficient  help.  Probably  he  thought  that  each  man  of  the  party  would 
find  the  same  relief  that  he  did,  in  being  cast  entirely  on  his  own  re- 
sources. 

Then  it  must  further  be  remembered,  in  explanation  of  this  mistaken 
order,  that  Andrews  had  slept  none  the  night  before,  that  he  had  been 
nearly  twenty-four  hours  without  food,  and  that  he  had  spent  nearly  two 
days  and  a night  in  the  most  exhausting  labors,  both  mental  and  physical, 
that  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  He  had  seen  his  cherished  plans,  when  on 
the  brink  of  success,  overthrown  by  what  seemed  the  remorseless  hand  of 
destiny.  To  the  many  failures  and  sorrows  of  his  past  life  had  been 
added  the  crowning  misfortune  of  this  defeat.  It  had  ever  been  his  sad 
and  tantalizing  lot,  to  almost,  but  not  quite  achieve;  to  succeed  grandly 
up  to  a certain  point,  and  then  to  fail  through  some  cause  too  strong 
for  human  power,  and  too  obscure  for  human  foresight.  Perhaps  under 
his  calmx  brow  he  realized  this  v\^ith  an  intensity  of  anguish,  and  felt  that 
the  greatest  favor  he  coiild  do  those  he  had  led  within  sight  of  a hor- 
rible death,  and  into  the  presence  of  an  enraged  and  triumphant  foe, 
was  to  separate  them*at  once  from  his  own  dark  and  shadowed  destiny. 
If  so,  that  was  the  most  fearful  mistake  of  all;  and  as  this  order  was 
given,  we  could  almost,  as  we  looked  southward  through  the  driving 
rain  and  the  storm-clouds,  behold  already  the  dark  outline  of  the  Atlanta 
scaffolds! 

It  was  pitiful!  The  “ General  ” had  served  us  well  ever  since  the  morn- 
ing hour  in  fearful  speed  and  patient  waiting,  in  exulting  raptures  and  in 
almost  despair.  It  was  hard  to  abandon  her  now.  She  was  substantially 
uninjured.  The  engineers,  Brown  and  Knight,  had  taken  good  care  of 
her,  and,  with  wood  and  oil  in  abundance,  there  would  have  been  no  diffi- 
culty on  her  part  in  completing  the  run  to  Huntsville.  She  was  still  jog- 
ging along  at  the  rate  of  eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  could  maintain 
that  pace  a little  longer.  The  pursuers  had  also  diminished  their  speed, 
so  as  to  just  keep  us  in  sight,  having  apparently  no  wish  to  press  upon 
what  may  have  seem_ed  to  them  like  a wounded  and  dying  lion.  The 
command  to  jump  off  and  scatter  ” was  repeated  with  the  injunction  to 
be  quick  about  it,  as  the  engineer  wished  to  reverse  the  engine  and  drive 
it  back  upon  the  enemy.  With  such  a reason,  there  could  be  no  more 
hesitation.  It  is  said  that  some  three  or  four  had  already  got  off  at 
the  first  word  of  command;  but  the  most  of  us  had  hesitated,  not  on  ac- 
count of  the  still  rapid  motion  of  the  train,  but  in  the  idle  hope  that  in 
some  way,  this  terrible  parting  might  be  averted.  Now  one  after  another 
clambered  down  on  the  step  and  swung  off.  I was  neither  among  the  first 
nor  the  last;  and  jumping  unskillfully  out  from  the  step,  instead  of  for- 


The  Final  Race, 


ISI 


ward,  whirled  over  and  over  on  hands  and  feet  for  several  revolutions. 
Rising  in  a dazed  condition,  though  unhurt  with  the  exception  of  a few 
scratches  from  the  briers  with  which  the  place  abounded,  I looked  over 
the  animated  scene,  with  the  deepest  interest.  The  men  who  had  jumped 
off  were,  according  to  instructions,  flying  in  different  directions;  a few 
others  were  just  coming  off  the  engine  in  almost  the  same  way  that  I had 
done,  while  the  engineers  were  attempting  to  carry  out  their  scheme  of 
reversing  the  engine,  which  could  do  no  good  now,  except  possibly  to 


\ Leaving  the  Locomotive. 


delay  the  inevitable  pursuit  a little,  and  give  us  a better  opportunity  to 
organize  our  plans.  The  brakes  of  the  tender  were  put  on  still  more  to 
diminish  speed,  and  the  reversal  was  made.  Here  is  a slight  conflict  of 
authority.  The  pursuers  say  that  the  brakes  were  not  loosed  again;  but  our 
engineers  are  equally  positive  that  they  were.  It  is  not  material,  for  the 
result  is  the  same.  The  steam  power  was  so  low,  that  though  the  engine 
moved  back,  it  was  with  moderate  velocity  and  I saw  the  pursuers  reverse 


152 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


also,  and  coming  to  a full  stop,  whistle  two  or  three  times  as  it  approached 
— a seeming  whistle  of  alarm,  though  there  was  little  in  the  approach  of 
our  poor  “ General  to  fear;  and  then  they  moved  slowly  before  it  for  a 
short  distance  till  the  two  were  in  contact,  when  the  weaker  stopped,  and 
the  steam  was  shut  off.  The  great  Railroad  Chase  was  over  ! 


V 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WHAT  WAS  ACTUALLY  ACCOMPLISHED. 

WHOEVER  has  attentively  read  the  preceding  pages  will  under- 
stand that  the  enterprise  described  was  not  a mere  hair-brained 
and  reckless  raid  which  could  scarcely  hope  for  success  and 
could  have  achieved  no  solid  result.  On  the  contrary  he  will  realize  that 
it  promised  much,  and  came  very  near  success;  while  its  ultimate  failure 
was  only  one  of  those  chances  of  war  which  no  human  wisdom  can  avert, 
and  which  give  to  this  game  of  life  and  death  its  terrible  fascination. 

Why  did  it  fail.'^  Four  causes  may  be  assigned,  three  of  which  are  but 
branches  of  one. 

I.  The  delay  of  one  day.  This  is  the  first  and  far  the  most  important. 
Had  Mitchel  been  equally  delayed,  no  harm  would  have  resulted;  but 
he  was  not,  and  in  consequence  the  road  was  crowded  with  extra  trains. 
The  responsibility  for  this  delay  must  rest  upon  Andrews  himself. 

2.  The  rai7i  on  Saturday,  This  made  the  use  of  fire  slow  and  difficult. 
But  it  may  be  regarded  as  a part  of  the  first  cause,  for  on  the  day  assigned, 
this  difficulty  would  not  have  existed.  On  Friday  there  was  a clear  day  and 
a roaring  wind.  We  would  not  have  spent  much  time  then  in  the  lifting 
of  rails,  for  a bridge  fired  and  fanned  by  such  a breeze  as  delayed  us  in 
crossing  the  Tennessee,  would  in  a few  minutes  have  made  an  impassable 
barrier.  But  on  Saturday  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  everything  was 
almost  insured  against  fire. 

3.  Andrews's  reluctance  to  fight.  He  took  the  men  along  as  laborers 
rather  than  warriors;  he  did  not  inspect  their  arms,  but  simply  advised 
that  each  be  furnished  with  a good  revolver.  I was  asked  by  a person  to 
whom  I gave  this  reason  whether  I thought  Andrews  cowardly  ! The 
term  might  as  well  be  applied  to  Julius  Caesar  ! But  his  plans  were  based 
on  strategy  rather  than  force;  and  the  failure  to  turn  and  fight  at  the  pro^ 
per  time  was  disastrous.  A second  in  command  who  would  have  stood 
by  him,  and  at  the  critical  time  have  advised  him  to  turn  on  the  foe, 
would  have  remedied  this  evil.  It  is  the  opinion  of  the  Confederates,  as 
well  as  our  own,  that  if  we  had  attacked  them  with  half  the  determi- 
nation shown  afterward  at  Atlanta  when  weaker  and  fewer,  we  would 
have  been  sure  of  success.  The  fault  for  this  neglect  was  in  General 


154 


Dai'ing  and  Suffering, 


Mitchel,  who  should  have  put  some  determined  fighter  in  command  of  the 
party,  under  the  direction  of  Andrews.  If  he  had  not  wished  to  risk  an- 
other man  there  were  members  of  the  party  fully  competent. ' 

4.  The  pursidt  of  Fuller  and  Murphy.  It  was  mere  accident  that  the 
latter  with  his  coolness  and  knowledge  of  all  repairs,  and  official  authority 
on  the  road,  was  present  that  morning.  The  day  before  he  would  not  have 
been.  Fuller  was  probably  the  only  conductor  on  the  road  who  would  have 
been  equal  to  the  terrible  vigor  of  this  pursuit;  and  it  was  doubtful  whether 
he  could  have  carried  it  through  without  the  help  of  Murphy.  When 
it  is  reflected  that  a difference  of  one  minute  or  less  at  any  one  of  two  or 
three  distinct  points,  would  have  given  complete  success  despite  all  hin- 
drances, it  will  be  seen  how  narrow  was  the  margin,  and  how  little  the 
help  of  Murphy  could  have  been  spared. 

It  required  all  of  these  four  to  defeat  us.  No  one  of  them,  nor  any 
three,  would  have  been  sufficient.  Looking  back  over  the  whole  matter  I 
give  it  as  my  candid  opinion  that  when  we  set  out  from  camp  our  chances 
of  success  were  as  good  as  those  of  Mitchel  in  his  march  upon  Huntsville. 
But  in  war  there  are  no  certainties. 

It  may  also  be  maintained  that  even  in  what  was  actually  done,  the 
score  of  men  engaged  rendered  to  their  army,  at  whatever  cost  of  suffer- 
ing to  themselves,  a greater  service  than  ten  times  their  number  could  h^ive 
wrought  in  the  ordinary  line  of  military  duty,  and  contributed  their  full 
share  to  the  overthrow  of  the  rebellon.  Three  considerations  support 
this  claim. 

The  superintendent  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Road  at  once  tele- 
graphed a request  for  strong  guards  at  all  important  bridges;  and 
E.  Kirby  Smith  from  Knoxville,  under  date  of  April  i6th,  directs  Gen. 
Leadbetter  to  send  troops  from  Chattanooga  for  that  purpose.  There 
were  twelve  or  fifteen  bridges  on  this  road  alone,  all  requiring  guards  to 
insure  them  against  the  repetition  of  an  attempt  such  as  ours;  and  when 
to  these  is  added  all  other  bridges  in  exposed  positions,  about  which  the 
enemy  was  made  uneasy  in  consequence  of  our  raid,  the  number  so  em- 
ployed cannot  be  estimated  at  less  than  several  hundreds,  abstracted  from, 
active  service  at  a time  when  every  man  was  urgently  needed.  As  a sim- 
ple diversion  of  force,  this  raid  was  eminently  successful.^ 

But  another  result  was  in  the  end  not  less  important.  Everything  that 
increased  the  rigor  of  the  war-pressure  inured  in  the  long  run  to  the 
advantage  of  the  Union  cause.  From  the  time  when  it  was  shown  that 
Federal  soldiers  in  disguise  could  penetrate  to  the  very  heart  of  the  Con- 
federacy, a much  more  stringent  passport  system  was  adopted.  All  guards 
at  ferries,  as  well  as  bridges,  were  strengthened;  arriving  and  departing 
trains  were  rigidly  examined;  and  a general  atmosphere  of  distrust  and 
^ See  also  the  message  of  Gov.  Brown,  of  Georgia.  Supplement,  Chap.  VI. 


What  was  Actually  Accomplished, 


155 


suspicion  was  intensified  all  through  the  South,  The  running  of  the  in- 
ternal or  land  blockade,  which  had  been  encouraged  on  the  Southern  side 
because  of  their  great  need  of  the  articles  imported,  was  carefully  scruti- 
nized and  thus  made  more  difficult;  an  important  result,  as  the  Federals 
were  greatly  interested  in  reducing  the  amount  of  contraband  articles 
carried  into  the  South.  They  could  not  expect  many  persons  to  employ 
such  a trade  to  their  advantage  as  Andrews  had  done;  and  the  Southerners 
on  their  part  were  so  frightened  by  the  deadly  blow  which  had  been 
aimed  at  their  heart  under  cover  of  this  secret  trade,  that  it  became  difficult 
for  any  genuine  blockade-runner  to  convince  them  that  he  was  not  also  in 
the  interest  of  the  enemy.  A large  force  employed  in  guarding  the 
frontier  could  not  have  accomplished  as  much  as  did  our  expedition  in  this 
totally  unlooked-for  direction.'  The  same  consideration  will  show  how 
absurd  is  the  statement  made  by  many  Southern  authorities,  that  Andrews 
was  to  be  rewarded  for  his  part  in  this  raid  by  the  privilege  of  “trading 
to  the  extent  of  five  thousand  dollars  a month  afterv/ard  In  the  case  of 
success  no  less  than  failure,  his  trading  would  have  been  over;  no  doubt, 
he  felt  that  what  he  had  promised  his  betrothed — that  he  would  after  this 
one  enterprise  retire  from  the  perilous  business  in  which  he  was  engaged — 
was  the  expression  of  a simple  necessity.  He  could  never  have  been  trust- 
ed by  the  Confederates  again. 

But  the  third  consideration  is  far  above  these.  The  greatest  gains  or 
losses  in  war  connot  be  weighed  or  measured.  A daring  deed  may  ac- 
complish nothing  in  material  results,  and  yet  in  kindling  the  emulation 
and  raising  the  spirits  of  the  one  side,  and  inspiring  the  other  with  respect 
for  their  adversary,  it  may  accomplish  more  than  the  capture  of  a fortress. 
The  death  of  Leonidas,  with  his  three  hundred  at  Thermopylae,  was  worth 
more  to  the  Greeks  than  the  gain  of  many  a battle;  the  Persian  concep- 
tion of  Greek  valor  was  immeasurably  heightened,  and  in  many  a doubt- 
ful conflict,  may  well  have  turned  the  scale;  while  every  Greek  felt  his 
arm  nerved  anew  by  their  heroism.  It  was  especially  necessary  that  \n 
this  conflict  there  should  be  some  unmistakable  illustrations  of  Northern 
daring;  for  it  had  been  an  accepted  tradition,  to  some  extent  at  the  North 
as  well  as  at  the  South,  that  in  personal  bravery,  in  dash  and  enthusiasm, 
the  Southern  soldier  far  excelled  the  Northern;  and  up  to  this  time  nearly 
all  the  daring  movements  and  dashing  raids  had  been  displayed  on  behalf 
of  the  South.  The  idle  boast  that  one  Southern  soldier  was  worth  five 
“Yankees’"  was  probably  never  sincerely  made  in  that  extreme  form;  but 
there  was  a firm  belief  that,  man  for  man,  the  advantage  was  on  the  side  of 
the  rebels.  Nothing  during  the  whole  war  did  so  much  to  shake  this  feel- 
ing as  our  raid.  It  was  beating  the  enemy  at  his  own  game.  They 
acknowledged  even  with  exaggerated  emphasis  that  Morgan,  their  favorite 
raider  and  guerilla  chief,  had  done  nothing  to  equal  this;  and  they  spoke 


156 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


of  the  possibilities  of  Northern  valor  with  far  more  respect  after  this 
signal  illustration  of  it.  An  almost  amusing  expression  of  this  feeling 
will  be  given  later  in  narrating  the  exaggerated  caution  with  which  the 
captives  of  this  band  were  guarded;  and  one  Confederate  countryman  said 
to  Geo.  D.  Wilson,  one  of  the  most  heroic  of  the  number,  with  charming 
simplicity,  Has  Mitchel  any  more  men  like  you  ? ” Wilson  was  equal  to 
the  occasion  and  at  once  answered,  “ Why,  we  are  the  worst  men  of  his 
division,  the  refuse  of  the  whole  army,  and  he  only  sent  us  down  here  to 
get  rid  of  us  ! 

In  recounting  much  of  indignity  and  severe  suffering  inflicted,  it  is  but 
just  to  remember,  in  extenuation,  the  extreme  rage  naturally  felt  toward 
our  leader.  Just  in  proportion  as  he  had  been  trusted,  was  the  revulsion 
of  feeling  and  the  desire  for  vengeance,  when  the  enemy  discovered  that 
he  had  been  playing  false.  It  might  have  been  foreseen  that  the  pursuit 
would  be  pressed  with  remorseless  vigor,  and  that  none  of  the  means  em- 
ployed in  hunting  fugitive  slaves  would  be  spared.  When  captured,  the  ■ 
probability  was  that  every  one  would  at  once  be  put  to  death  in  the  most 
summary  way  that  fury  could  suggest.  Not  one  of  us  but  would  have 
preferred  to  remain  in  a body  and  fight  till  all  had  fallen,  rather  than  de- 
pend upon  the  enemy^s  mercy;  the  circumstances  were  not  such  as  to  greatly 
invite  clemency,  and  our  belief  was  that  the  people  with  whom  we  were 
now  to  settle  accounts  would  not  be  disposed  to  a merciful  view  of  our 
deeds.  Two  things  only  could  cause  the  least  delay  in  the  death  of  any 
of  the  party  who  might  be  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  into  their  power; 
curiosity  arising  from  the  uncertainty  as  to  who  and  what  we  were,  and 
the  fear  of  retaliation  by  the  Federals.  The  latter  might  be  effectually 
guarded  against  if  the  capture  of  any  of  the  number  when  taken  could  be 
kept  a profound  secret,  and  our  officers  be  led  to  believe  that  we  had  all 
perished  at  the  outset.  ^ 

In  !:ertain  quarters,  even  on  the  loyal  side  and  since  the  war,  our  ex- 
ploit has  been  spoken  of  as  “ stealing  an  engine,*'  and  “ the  robbery  of  a 
train.”  Such  expressions  were  natural  on  the  part  of  the  Confederates. 
They  would  incline  to  do  all  in  their  power  to  belittle  the  whole  matter, 
and  make  it  appear  right  to  treat  us  with  indignity.  But  these  phrases  are 
now  neither  correct  nor  in  good  taste.  To  speak  of  Grant  as  ‘^robbing/’  i 
the  enemy  of  Richmond  or  Sherman  as  “stealing*^  Atlanta  would  be 
equally  justifiable.  The  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  was  used  in  the 
military  service  of  the  rebels;  and  to  destroy  its  property  or  convert  it  to 
the  use  of  the  Federal  government  was  in  no  sense  ” stealing,*^  unless  the 
whole  war  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union  was  one  gigantic  theft. 

All  day  on  Saturday  intense  excitement  and  suspense  reigned  along  ^ 
the  whole  line  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  as  well  as  in  the  sur- 
rounding country.  The  great  raid  was  known  to  be  in  progress;  but* 


What  ivas  Actually  Accomplished. 


157 


lor  many  hours  the  result  was  doubtful.  The  terrible  passions  evoked 
on  the  part  of  all  engaged  were  shared  with  but  little  diminution  by 
those  who  were  interested  so  directly  in  the  result.  The  Southern  peo- 
ple had  from  the  beginning  of  the  war  been  taught  that  the  coming  of 
the  “Yankees,”  as  the  Federals  were  generally  called,  would  bring  with 
it  the  most  terrible  calamities  to  which  a people  could  be  subjected.  The 
loss  of  property,  the  burning  of  houses,  and  even  the  murder  of  women 
and  children  were  not  the  worst  evils  threatened.  Reports  of  Southern 
victories  had  hitherto  been  so  exaggerated  and  frequent  that  these  startling 
dangers  had  seemed  distant;  but  now  in  a single  day  they  were  brought 
terribly  near.  The  news  that  Mitchel  had  taken  Huntsville  in  Alabama, 
had  followed  directly  the  reports  of  a great  battle  on  the  borders  of 
Mississippi,  and  the  same  day  the  enemy  were  in  their  own  midst,  in  the 
heart  of  Georgia  ! It  is  still  possible  by  the  aid  of  files  of  Confederate 
newspapers  to  enter  into  this  natural,  even  if  exaggerated  feeling,  which 
had  the  most  practical  importance , to  us,  as  it  led  to  the  terrible  pursuit 
and  probably  to  much  of  the  ill-treatment  that  followed. 

A circumstance  that  added  to  the  speed  with  which  the  intelligence 
was  diffused,  and  made  the  pursuit  to  be  more  prompt  and  better  organ- 
ized, while  increasing  the  general  excitement,  wac  that  Saturday  was  a 
general  muster  day.  As  the  trains  passed  they  found  people  already 
gathered  in  their  towns,  with  their  guns.  These  were  of  rude  pattern,  but 
very  efficient  for  the  use  now  demanded.  They  waited  with  breathless 
interest,  as  many  of  them  as  could  not  crowd  on  the  pursuing  trains,  to 
learn  the  result.  The  telegraph  wires  were  restored  as  fast  as  possible 
and  the  news  sent  back.  Each  message,  whether  by  this  channel  or  by 
couriers  on  horseback,  was  listened  to  with  the  greatest  avidity.  The 
simple  facts  were  distorted  in  a hundred  ways. 

An  amusing  account  is  given  by  a correspondent  of  the  Atlanta 
Southern  Confederacy^'  of  April  18  (written  of  course  after  the  panic  had 
subsided)  of  the  reception  of  the  first  intelligence  at  Chattanooga.  The 
correspondent  says  that  .“  the  news  reached  here  by  telegraph  from  Dalton 
to  the  agent  at  this  end  of  the  line.  Quick  as  thought  it  was  heralded 
over  town,  penetrating  to  every  part  of  this  diversified  city,  that  the 
Yankees  had  possession  of  the  road;  that  all  the  bridges  from  here  to 
Dalton  were  burned;  that  Cleveland,  Tennessee,  had  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy;  and  that  they  were  within  a few  miles  of  Chattanooga.” 
He  declares  that  while  no  flag  of  truce  was  sent  out  to  surrender  the 
town,  no  other  absurdity  was  omitted.  The  whole  able-bodied  population 
were  enrolled  for  defense,  and  some  of  them  were  exceedingly  unwilling 
to  venture  into  danger;  that  streams  of  people  flocked  away  as  fast  as  they 
could  go;  and  that  for  a time  panic  reigned  supreme.  It  may  safely  be 


158  Daring  and  Suffering, 

assumed  that  the  same  state  of  excitement  existed  in  every  other  town 
near  the  line  of  the  road. 

But  the  accounts  of  the  matter  as  given  in  Atlanta  are  still  more  in- 
teresting. This  city  was  in  itself  very  important;  it  was  now  made  a great 
storehouse  for  the  South,  much  of  the  provision,  bacon  especially,  on 
which  the  armies. of  both  Lee  and  Beauregard  depended  for  subsistence, 
had  been  gathered  out  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  and  sent  here  for  safe 
keeping.  Camp  McDonald  was  on  the  line  of  the  railroad  between  this 
town  and  Chattanooga,  and  troops  were  continually  coming  and  going 
over  the  line.  This  seizure  was  at  once  felt  in  Atlanta  to  be  a vital 
matter;  and  while  there  was  not  the  same  panic  from  the  supposed  imme- 
diate presence  of  an  invading  army  with  all  its  horrors  of  rapine  and 
bloodshed,  yet  the  danger  was  felt  to  be  imminent.  We  give  an  extract 
from  one  or  two  numbers  of  ^^The  Southern  Corifederacy^'^  one  of  the  most 
important  journals  in  the  South.  For  some  days  a large  proportion  of  its 
space  was  given  to  this  affair;  on  the  15th  of  April  especially,  a full  ac- 
count was  given'  embracing  a whole  page.  This  is  given  in  the  Supple- 
ment,^ as  it  is  a deliberate  Southern  estimate  of  the  nature  of  the  expedi- 
tion. But  a still  more  interesting  account  is  that  in  the  issue  of  the  13th, 
which  gives  a view  of  the  feelings  of  the  people  while  the  contest  was  still 
in  progress.  Parts  only  of  the  long  artic  e are  cited,  though  for  the  sake 
of  clearness  we  must  repeat  some  matters  already  narrated,  and  give 
others  which  have  the  natural  incorrectness  of  a first  report. 

“ The  startling  intelligence  was  received  on  yesterday  morning,  that  while  the  regular 
mail  and  passenger  train  was  stopped  at  Camp  McDonald,  or  Big  Shanty,  and  the  engi- 
neer, conductor,  and  passengers  were  at  breakfast,  some  four  men,  as  yet  unknown,  after 
having  cut  loose  all  but  the  three  foremost  cars,  got  on  the  engine, 'put  on  steam,  and  shot 
away  like  an  arrow,  leaving  the  baggage  and  passenger  cars,  p-^ssengers,  engineer,  and 
train  hands,  and  conductor  lost  in  amazement  at  this  unparalleled  and  daring  outrage.  Some 
distance  above  they  tore  up  the  track  and  cut  down  the  telegraph  wires.”  ***** 

(It  will  be  noticed  that  so  quickly  were  the  men  placed  on  the  cars 
that  only  the  four  on  the ‘engine  were  seen.  In  one  sense  this  was  our 
misfortune  as  it  rendered  the  pursuit  the  less  fearful  and  cautious.) 

“ They  arrived  at  Kingston  where  they  met  the  down  freight  train,  and  went  upon  the 
turnout,  showing  that  they  understood  the  schedule,  and  the  minutest  working  of  the  road. 
* * * As  soon  as  the  down  train  passed  they  shot  away  with  all  their  speed  and 

mystery. 

We  learn  that  a train  has  been  put  in  pursuit  of  them,  having  repaired  the  track, 
and  hopes  to  overtake  them  before  they  reach  any  of  the  bridges  over  the  Chickamauga  and 
other  streams.  No  doubt  they  are  Lincoln  enemies,  sent  down  among  us  to  destroy  these 
bridges,  to  retard  our  movement  of  troops,  and  the  thought  is  a very  serious  one  to  us. 


1 Chapter  XXXIX. 


What  was  Actually  Accomplished. 


159 


For  cool  impudence  and  reckless  daring,  this  beats  anything  we  ever  heard  or  read  of. 
We  are  in  an  agony  of  suspense  to  hear  the  denouement  of  the  strange  and  daring  achieve- 
ment.” ***** 

P.  S. — (Fuller’s  pursuit)  Arriving  at  Kingston  he  got  the  Rome  engine  with  its  engi- 
neer, all  in  fine  condition,  with  perhaps  forty  armed  men,  and  pressed  on.  * * * * * 

“At  Adairsville,  the  regular  passenger  trains  up  and  down  meet,  and  the  thieves 
would  have  to  pass  them  there.  The  down  train  due  here  at  four  p.  m.  has  not  yet  (at  nine 
p.  M.)  arrived,  and  it  is  feared  that  there  has  been  a collision  with  the  engine,  though  the 
torn-up  track  may  be  the  cause  of  the  delay. 

“Various  surmises  looking  to  a solution  of  the  mystery  are  indulged  here.  Every- 
body at  first  concluded  it  was  a most  daring  effort  of  some  Lincolnites  to  burn  the  bridges 
to  stop  the  transportation  of  troops  over  the  State  road.  It  is  reported  that  the  whole  of 
the  troops  at  Camp  McDonald  were  going  off-  yesterday  morning  and  a large  number  of 
troops  from”  * * * * * (these  are  the  Charleston  troops  already  mentioned. — W.P.)  “came 
through  here  last  night  on  their  way  to  the  scene  of  action.  Some  said  there  was  really  am- 
munition in  the  three  box-cars  they  carried  off,  and  the  object  was  to  take  it  to  the  enemy  at 
Huntsville.  We  however  learn  officially  that  the  cars  attached  to  the  engine  were  empty. 

“ Another  solution  which  has  gained  credence,  and  is  not  at  all  improbable,  is  that 
they  were  simply  thieves  on  a large  scale,  and  took  this  method  of  escape.” — The  Southern 
Confederacy^  April  13,  1862. 


A few  words  may  be  of  interest  in  regard  to  those  who  will  appear  no 
more  in  this  history.  The  locomotive  captured,  the  “ General,”  is  itself  a 
famous  war  relic,  being  regarded  by  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  Co. 
with  peculiar  affection,  and  carefully  preserved.  The  chase  did  not  sub- 
stantially injure  the  grand  machine,  and  she  was  soon  made  as  good  as  new. 
Before  the  close  of  the  war  she  had  other  adventures,  being  under  Federal 
fire  at  the  battle  of  Kenesaw  Mountain,  and  in  great  danger,  for  she  had 
taken  a train-load  of  ammunition  up  to  the  present  station  of  Elizabeth, 
just  south  of  the  Confederate  intrenchments,  where  the  Federal  shells  ex- 
ploded all  about  her.  For  many  years  she  hauled  passenger  trains  over 
the  familiar  road,  and  I had  the  pleasure,  in  1880,  of  again  riding  behind 
her  from  Atlanta  to  Chattanooga.  Since  then  she  has  been  used  in  light 
work  only,  and  receives  the  attention  of  many  visitors,  who  like  to  look 
on  the  most  famous  locomotive  in  America.  The  accompanying  photo- 
graph has  been  furnished  by  the  kindness  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Co. 

Most  of  those  who  were  prominent  in  the  chase  reside  still  in  Atlanta 
(1887),  Anthony  Murphy  as  a prosperous  lumberman,  and  Conductor 
Fuller  engaged  in  the  management  of  his  plantation  and  town  property. 
Immediately  after  the  railroad  raid  a number  of  prominent  citizens  peti- 
tioned Gov.  Brown  of  Georgia  to  bestow  a suitable  reward  on  Capt.  Fuller 
for  his  indomitable  energy  and  pluck,  who  in  turn  recommended ' him  to 
the  Georgia  Legislature.  He  was  voted  a gold  medal  and  the  thanks  of  the 
Legislature  but  had  to  be  contented  with  the  latter  only,  as  gold  became 


* See  extract  from  message  in  Chap.  XLI, 


i6o 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


exceedingly  scarce  in  the  South  and  enough  for  the  purpose  was  not  avail- 
able. It  was  sad  for  him  that  his ‘brilliant  services  were  given  to  a “ lost 
cause/’  and  could  therefore  bring  no  Governmental  reward.^  He  has 
always,  since  the  close  of  the  contest,  been  on  friendly  terms  with  the  sur- 
vivors on  the  Union  side,  as  they  respected  bravery,  and  believed  that 
he  did  simply  what  he  regarded  as  his  duty. 

Capt.  Fuller  continued  to  serve  as  conductor  on  the  same  road  while 
it  was  under  Confederate  control;  but  in  the  summer  of  1864  the  route 
began  to  shorten  rapidly.  As  he  graphically  said,  “ Sherman  bit  a piece 


“ The  General.” — From  a photograph  taken  in  Atlanta  in  1887,  by  the  W.  and  A.  R.  R.  Co.  Conduc- 
tor Fuller  and  Captain  Parrott  are  shown. 


off  the  end  of  it  almost  every  day  till  it  was  all  gone.”  Then  he  was 
made  a captain  in  the  Confederate  service,  and  afterwards  given  charge  of 
all  the  rolling  stock  of  the  road — Sherman  was  never  as  successful  as 
Mitchel  in  capturing  such  spoils — and  kept  it  out  of  Federal  hands,  until 
the  final  collapse  of  the  Confederacy.  After  the  restoration  of  the  Union, 
he  continued  for  ten  years  more  in  his  old  position  as  conductor,  then  for 
seven  or  eight  years  was  a merchant  of  Atlanta,  when  he  retired  from  active 
business. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

HUNTED  IN  THE  WOODS. 

'"T^HE  following  narratives  of  that  strangest  and  most  thrilling  of  human 
experiences,  where  men  were  hunted  as  wild  animals,  are  left  sub- 
stantially unchanged,  except  where  a better  knowledge  of  the  coun- 
try leads  to  some  slight  corrections.  The  fear  and  horror,  the  faint  hope 
fading  into  despair,  the  numberless  devices,  pathetic  in  their  insufficiency, 
for  eluding  a remorseless  pursuit, — all  these  are  better  given  in  their  first 
freshness  as  they  were  told  twenty-five  years  ago,  than  they  could  now  be 
rendered  by  the  reflections  of  more  mature  years.  Abridgements  have 
been  made  in  some  of  the  accounts  to  prevent  that  sameness  which  would 
otherwise  be  inevitable,  because  the  obstacles  each  of  the  party  had  to 
surmount,  and  the  objects  in  view  were  the  same.  It  will  be  seen  that 
the  means  also  employed  by  us  were  so  nearly  identical  as  to  afford  our 
pursuers  a ready  clue.  The  result  of  the  whole  chase  is  little  less  than 
marvellous  when  considered  in  itself;  but  the  marvel  is  greatly  increased 
when  looked  at  in  contrast  with  the  exactly  opposite  issue  of  another  at- 
tempt at  escape  seven  months  later.  If  my  own  adventures  are  given 
first,  and  with  more  minuteness  than  those  of  others,  it  is  not  that  they 
are  longer  or  more  important,  but  simply  because  it  is  better  to  present 
one  fully  drawn  picture,  and  then  give  only  what  is  peculiar  in  other 
stories;  and  this  complete  picture  can  be  best  given  by  any  writer  of  his 
own  experiences. 

When  we  left  the  train,  I confess  that  for  a moment  my  heart  sank 
within  me.  I had -the  ordinary  bravery  of  disciplined  soldiers;  and  while 
on  the  train  at  no  time  felt  afraid  to  perform  any  duty  that  was  ordered; 
but  this  position  was  totally  new,  and  of  all  earthly  situations  seemed  most 
dreadful.  The  conviction,  very  strongly  felt,  that  it  was  unnecessary, 
did  not  add  the  least  comfort.  I could  see  the  soldiers  pouring  out  from 
the  pursuing  trains,  (for  a second  one  was  almost  immediately  on  the 
ground),  and  hear  their  loud  shouts,  and  very  soon  the  firing  of  guns. 
That  a vast  hunt  was  to  be  organized  was  only  too  evident;  and  the  result 
of  capture  would  only  lie  between  (so  I thought)  a gun-shot  and  a rope. 
The  prospect  of  escape  seemed  well  nigh  desperate.  I did  not  know 
where  I was.  The  descriptions  given  on  succeeding  pages  are  the  result 


II 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


162 

of  studies  along  the  line,  which  would  leave  me  in  a far  different  position 
for  a sirhilar  attempt  to  escape  now.  I only  knew  that  to  go  far  enough 
north  or  north-west  would  bring  me  to  our  own  lines;  but  the  sun  did  not 
shine,  and  I had  no  compass,  and  no  knowledge  of  those  arts  of  the 
woodman  by  which  the  want  of  guides  is  sometimes  supplied. 

But  there  was  no  time  for  meditation — to  simply  stand  still  would  bring 
ruin  As  I saw  the  fugitives  a short  distance  ahead  or  to  one  side  of  me, 
two  thoughts  arose;  first,  it  would  be  a great  advantage  if  I could  reach 
those  three  who  had  been  my  companions  day  and  night  for  a week^  and 
from  whom  I had  become  separated  in  the  confused  tumbling  from  the  cars. 
It  was  a pity  that  I thought  of  this,  for  in  the  attempt  to  find  them  I lost 
the  opportunity  of  finding  some  others  whose  companionship  would  have 
answered  as  well.  I might  even  have  succeeded  in  rallying  a small  band 
and  partially  carrying  out  the  plan  already  sketched — that  of  rapidly, 
with  no  halt  either  for  rest  or  sleep,  hurrying  to  our  own  lines.  What 
I accomplished  alone,  and  what  was  done  by  Wilson  and  Wood,  has  always 
disposed  me  to  thinTc  that  with  the  help  of  a few  corilrades  I might  have 
penetrated  to  our  - lines  in  a short  time.  But  in  searching  for  Wilson, 
Campbell,  and  Shadrack  I got  away  from  the  others  who  might  have  been 
reached. 

The  second  thought  was  of  a more  practical  character,  and  was  imme- 
diately acted  upon.  It  was  that  getting  away  from  the  immediate  scene 
of  the  abandoned  train  would  be  far  better  than  to  attempt  concealment. 
I knew  too  well  the  means  for  discovering  the  hiding  places  of  fugitives; 
though  in  the  rain  and  in  the  small  oak  timber,  with  the  attention  of  the 
pursuers  called  in  other  directions,  it  was  possible  that  for  a short  time 
one  or  two  might  have  succeeded  in  concealing  themselves;  but  there  would 
be  no  gain  in  this — nothing  but  a simple  loss  of  time.  Travelling  never 
would  be  more  easy  or  safe  for  us  than  that  afternoon,  if  we  but  kept  in 
advance  of  the  enemy.  By  the  next  day  it  was  sure  that  horsemen  start- 
ing out  from  every  telegraphic  point  would  alarm  the  whole  country,  and 
all  the  panic  and  uncertainty  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  would  give  place 
to  relentless  pursuit.  The  country  people  would  be  filled  with  horror  and 
resentment  at  the  thought  of  “ Yankees  ''  having  penetrated  their  country 
in  disguise,  while  the  military  authorities  would  count  no  effort  too  great 
to  get  hold  of  us,  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  learn  our  character.  So 
the  chances  of  escape  could  only  grow  worse  by  waiting. 

If  the  description  of  the  country  given  by  different  members  of  the 
party  at  starting  differs  somewhat,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  we  were 
“ drilled  along  the  road  for  the  space  of  half  a mile  or  more,  which  may 
have  somewhat  changed  the  surroundings.  I climbed  up  the  small  bank 
which  I found  myself  facing  as  soon  as  I recovered  from  the  slight  dizzi- 
ness produced  by  the  mode  of  getting  off  the  train,  and  found  a strip  of 


Hunted  in  the  Woods, 


163 

woodland  before  me  separated  from  the  railroad  by  a fence.  From  the 
top  of  the  fence  I looked  about,  striving  to  get  as  good  an  idea  of  the  situ- 
ation as  my  bad  eyes  would  permit.  Our  own  train,  which  had  gone  ahead, 
was  now  coming  back,  while  the  pursuing  trains  were  very  near. 

They  had  stopped  and  men  were  getting  off.  Our  boys  were  flying 
across  the  woods.  No  time  was  to  be  lost,  and  jumping  down  I ran  in  the 
same  direction.  I crossed  a little  brook  which  ran  by  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  and  came  out  into  a large  wheat-field  that  sloped  up  a moderate  hill. 
There  were  three  of  our  party  a little  ahead  and  it  seemed  as  if  I could 
overtake  them.  I put  forth  my  best  exertions,  calling  as  I ran,  not  know- 
ing their  names,  but  assured  that  any  of  our  own  party  would  be  valuable 
company.  They  did  not  hear  me,  and  I labored  in  vain  to  overtake  them. 
Never  did  I find  running  so  difficult.  The  wheat-field  was  very  soft,  and 
the  mud  in  great  masses  clung  to  my  feet  so  that  I could  scarcely  lift 
them.  I was  weak,  faint,  and  tired,  and  it  was  like  trying  to  run  in  a 
nightmare.  Hurrying  up  hill  under  such  circumstances  seemed  an  im- 
possibility. 

Convinced  that  I could  not  overtake  the  men  before  me,  or  make  them 
hear,  I dropped  into  a walk,  and  plodding  on,  reached  the  other  side  of 
the  field,  and  as  I left  it,  the  first  of  the  pursuers.  Fuller  at  their  head, 
mounted  the  fence  and  entered  behind  me.  But  he  was  as  nearly 
exhausted  as  we  were,  and  his  chase  in  the  woods  was  faint  and  useless  as 
compared  with  that  in  his  own  element.  When  on  solid  ground  once 
more  I made  better  progress;  yet  in  the  woods  beyond,  I found  with 
inexpressible  anguish  that  the  last  one  of  my  comrades  had  vanished, 
and  I was  alone  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy^s  country  ! 

But  I continued  on,  keeping  the  noise  of  firing  and  shouting, — a dis- 
mal accompaniment  when  every  shot  might  mean  the  death  of  a comrade, 
— directly  behind  me.  This  was  an  excellent  guide  as  long  as  it  lasted. 

For  some  time  I continued  in  this -manner,  crossing  low  hills  and 
gentle  valleys  mostly  covered  with  thin  woods,  until  going  down  a longer 
slope  than  usual,  I found  myself  in  a bend  of  Chickamauga  Creek, — a 
little  river  that  empties  into  the  Tennessee  a short  distance  above  Chatta- 
nooga. It  was  now  swollen  by  the  continuous  rains  into  a formidable 
stream,  and  as  I looked  on  its  swift  current  boiling  among  the  rocks  it 
was  far  from  inviting.  The  enemy  in  beginning  their  pursuit,  had  count- 
ed largely  on  this  stream  preventing  a flight  directly  westward;  and  as  the 
east  branch  of  the  same  stream  joins  it  at  Graysville,  but  a short  distance 
from  the  starting-point  they  had  good  reason  for  hoping  that  we  would  try 
to  follow  down  the  stream  and  find  ourselves  in  their  trap.  This  hap- 
pened in  the  case  of  four  who  were  captured  within  a few  hours.  They 
came  to  this  river,  and  fearing  to  tempt  death  in  the  torrent  followed  its 
current  until  they  came  to  the  junction  of  the  stream  where  they  were 


164 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


surrounded  and  taken — the  first  capture  in  this  man-hunt.  But  as  I look- 
ed at  the  torrent  1 realized  that  to  go  either  up  or  down  stream  would  carry 
me  the  wrong  way^ — that  is,  at  right  angles  with  the  noise  still  made  by 
the  enemy  instead  of  directly  away  from  it.  So,  holding  revolver  and 
ammunition  high  over  my  head  with  my  left  hand,  leaving  the  right  free 

for  clinging  to  the  rocks  or 
swimming,  I committed  my- 
self to  the  angry  tide,  and 
after  being  thoroughly 
soaked  and  almost  washed 
away,  I succeeded  in  reach- 
ing the  opposite  shore. 
There  I found  that  only  the 
form  of  danger  had  changed. 
The  bank  rose  in  an  almost 
perpendicular  precipice  high 
over  my  head — more  than  a 
hundred  feet,  as  nearly  as  I 
could  judge,  — and  extend- 
ing further  on  either  hand 
than  I could  see.  I dared 
not  recross  the  stream,  and 
therefore  clambered  slowly 
and  painfully  up  the  face 
of  the  precipice.  Several 
times  when  near  the  top  did 
I feel  my  grasp  giving  way; 
but  as  often  some  bush  or 
projecting  rock  afforded  me 
a hold  by  which  I could 
save  myself;  and  I could  not 
help  thinking,  as  I climbed, 
what  a fine  mark  I would 
present  to  a rifleman  on  the 
other  side  of  the  stream! 

Climbing  the  Chickamauga  Precipice.  imminent 

danger,  I reached  the  top,  utterly  exhausted,  and  fell  at  the  root  of  a 
tree,  where  I lay  to  recover  breath  for  a while. 

I had  been  here  but  a very  short  time  musing  on  the  unenviable  posi- 
tion in  which  I was  placed,  when  suddenly  a sound  reached  my  ears  which 
brought  me  to  my  feet  with  every  nerve  straining  to  its  highest  tension,  and 
the  blood  leaping  wildly  through  my  veins.  It  was  the  distant  baying  of  a 
bloodhound  1 — to  a fugitive,  the  most  doleful  and  repulsive  of  earthly 


Hunted  in  the  Woods, 


165 


sounds  ! I was  to  be  hunted  not  by  men  only,  but,  like  other  game,  by 
dogs  as  well  ! never  can  I read  the  story  of  human  beings  pursued  by  these 
most  revolting  instruments  of  man’s  savage  “ inhumanity  to  man  ” with 
indifference  ! 

A few  moments  listening  confirmed  my  first  impression.  It  was  true 
that  they  were  after  us  with  their  bloodhounds  ! not  one  pack  alone  but 
many,  as  the  different  directions  in  which  1 heard  them — all,  however, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Chickamauga,- — revealed  but  too  plainly.  There 
was  no  longer  safety  in  idleness,  and  I hurried  off  as  rapidly  as  I could 
directly  away  from  the  river,  for  I knew  not  how  soon  similar  packs  of 
dogs  and  men  might  be  in  the  woods  on  the  westward  side  of  the  stream. 
I was  in  but  poor  condition  for  a rapid  journey,  having  had  neither  dinner 
nor  breakfast,  and  having  spent  all  the  morning  hours  in  labor  and  excite- 
ment of  the  most  exhausting  character.  But  for  a time  the  urgent  need 
gave  artificial  strength,  and  I rapidly  placed  a considerable  interval  be- 
tween myself  and  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  which  at  least  indicated  the 
course  which  judgment  and  inclination  alike  urged  me  to  travel — that  is, 
directly  away  from  them. 

Some  controversy  has  arisen  as  to  whether  bloodhounds  were  employed 
in  this  pursuit.  One  Confederate  in  denying  the  charge  urges  that  very 
few  if  any  Spanish  bloodhounds  of  pure  breed  were  in  the  South,  and 
especially  in  the  state  of  Georgia,  at  the  time  of  the  war.  In  this  he  is 
probably  right.  No  one  of  our  party  at  any  rate  is  in  a position  to  dis- 
prove the  assertion.  What  we  do  know  is  that  tracking  dogs  were  kept 
in  the  districts  over  which  our  experience  extends,  and  that  these  were 
remorselessly  used  in  hunting  us  down.  It  seems  to  us  a small  matter 
whether  the  dogs  which  are  kept  in  large  numbers  by  the  Southern  planters 
and  by  the  hunters  of  the  mountains,  and  which  were  trained  to  track 
negroes  and  savagely  attack  them,  which  we  saw  and  heard  baying  on 
our  track,  were  of  one  breed  or  another.  Their  employment  in  this  man- 
ner added  an  element  of  horror  to  the  chase;  but  it  was  almost  inevitable 
that  they  should  be  so  used.  They  were  accustomed  to  tracking  fugitive 
men;  without  the  employment  of  tracking  dogs  it  would  have  been  very 
difficult  to  prevent  slaves  from  eluding  their  masters;  and  just  the  same 
advantages  were  to  be  found  in  using  them  to  chase  soldiers.  Had  we 
remained  together,  however,  they  could  have  done  us  no  harm,  as  our 
passage  over  the  country  would  have  been  too  rapid  and  in  too  great 
force.  Even'  when  alone,  I did  not  greatly  fear  the  dogs  after  the  first 
thrill  of  horror  had  subsided,  as  I did  not  think  they  would  of  themselves 
attack  an  armed  man,  and  I hoped,  if  the  sun  and  stars  would  only  shine, 
to  be  able  soon  to  make  my  way  to  our  own  lines. 

I sped  rapidly  over  hills  and  streams  for  I know  not  how  far.  The 
noise  of  the  dogs  grew  fainter  in  the  distance.  I was  outside  as  I had 


1 66  Daring  and  Suffering, 

hoped  to  be^  of  the  circle  which  yet  bounded  the  efforts  of  the  enemy  in 
seeking  for  hidden  foes.  But  as  the  sense  of  immediate  danger  from 
pursuers  relaxed,  the  wish  to  have  some  guide,  or  at  least  to  know  where  ^ 
I was,  grew  stronger.  I had  a conviction  that  I was  going  west,  but  I 
might  be  totally  mistaken.  It  was  also  possible  that  I would  run  directly 
into  an  enemy^s  camp. 

As  I descended  the  long  slope  of  a wooded  hill  into  a wild,  solitary 
valley,  I saw  a rude  hut  and  a man  in  the  garden  beside  it.  Here  was  an 
opportunity  for  inquiries.  With  but  one  man  at  hand  I did  not  fear  ^ 
arrest,  and  I thought  it  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that  he  had  yet 
received  warning  of  the  chase.  I approached  him  and  asked  the  distance 
to  Chattanooga.  That  was  the  last  place  to  which  I wished  to  go,  but  it 
was  the  best  point  to  get  my  bearings  from.  The  answer  was  “eight 
miles. “ This  shows  that  I had  already  passed  over  a long  distance,  as  we 
were  nineteen  miles  distant  by  rail  when  I started.  I also  got  the  direc- 
tion of  the  town,  so  that  I might  have  a point  of  comparison  in  any  future  ^ 
inquiries.  Then  I left  him.  It  would  have  been  wise  to  have  also  obtained 
some  food  here,  but  I did  not  wish  to  risk  the  delay.  I started  along 
the  road  for  Chattanooga,  but  as  soon  as  the  house  was  out  of  sight,  I 
climbed  the  hill  to  my  left,  for  if  I could,  I would  have  liked  to  circle 
around  Chattanooga  at  about  the  same  distance,  keeping  the  town  on  my 
right  hand,  till  I reached  the  Tennessee  river,  which  I rightly  judged  to  4 
be  directly  in  my  way.  The  sight  of  the  river,  if  at  a little  distance  below 
Chattanooga,  would  have  been  as  welcome  as  was  the  first  view  of  the  sea 
to  the  fugitive  Greeks. 

I had  now  started  in  a way  that,  if  I could  keep  it,  would  be  sure  to 
bring  me  in  time  to  our  own  lines.  I had  not  been  closely  followed  and 
was  making  good  speed.  No  one  opposed  my  progress,  and  I felt  a 
strength  that  under  the  circumstances  was  wonderful.  In  fact  I had 
always  possessed  a great  degree  of  endurance.  In  the  few  hours  of  day- 
light that  still  remained,  I could  add  eight  or  ten  miles  more  to  the  dis- 
tance separating  me  from  the  pursuers,  and  while  travelling  at  night  would 
be  more  difficult,  if  it  continued  cloudy,  it  would  not  be  impossible,  and  I 
had  the  resolution  to  go  on  with  slight  rest  all  the  night.  But  everything 
was  conditioned  on  my  being  able  to  keep  a straight  course.  The  absence  ^ 
of  company,  and  the  uncertainty  of  the  fate  of  my  comrades,  weighed  on 
my  spirits  heavily;  and  I longed  for  any  one  of  the  number  to  talk  and 
plan  with,  feeling  that  then  the  way  would  not  be  so  long;  and  if  it  became 
necessary  to  seize  food  by  force,  two  would  be  much  more  able  to  do  it 
than  one.  But  I had  no  hope  of  meeting  any  of  them  now,  and  was 
obliged  to  rely  on  my  own  resources. 

At  this  stage,  a simple  incident  occurred  which  would  have  been 
ludicrous  under  other  circumstances,  but  which  went  far  toward  driving 


Hiuited  in  the  Woods, 


167 

away  all  my  new-found  hope.  After  passing  down  a short  wooded  bank 
I came  to  a road,  and  in  crossing  looked  both  ways  to  see  if  there  was 
any  sign  of  travellers;  and  thus  I became  well  acquainted  with  its  appear- 
ance. I then  passed  on  and  walked  fast  for  perhaps  an  hour,  when  to  my 
great  surprise  I came  to  the  same  place  again.  I had  passed  other  roads 
in  the  meantime,  but  the  appearance  of  this  one  was  unmistakable.  I was 
greatly  annoyed  thus  to  lose  my  labor  when  I was  hoping  to  be  far  on  the 
way  to  the  Tennessee  before  nightfall;  but  struck  again  vigorously  over 
the  hill  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  right  direction.  Judge  of  my  aston- 
ishment and  despair  when  an  hour  of  hard  walking  brought  me  to  the  same 
place  again  ! So  much  time  had  been  lost  that  I could  hear  the  blood- 
hounds once  more  and  not  far  away  ! I was  perplexed  beyond  measure. 
A very  short  time  brought  me  either  to  the  Chickamauga  which  I had 
crossed  hours  before,  or  to  one  of  its  branches,  so  much  swollen  that  I 
could  not  distinguish  it  from  the  other.  I seemed  to  be  in  the  mazes  of 
a labyrinth,  where  all  my  labor  was  worse  than  thrown  away.  In  sheer 
desperation  I took  the  first  road  I came  to  and  followed  it  a long  time  at 
a rapid  rate,  almost  regardless  of  where  it  led  or  whom  I should  meet. 
The  one  thing  that  I felt  utterly  unwilling  to  do  was  to  stop  and  rest, 
while  deadly  foes  were  tracking  me  out  with  their  dogs.  Anything  was 
better  than  that.  Neither  did  I*  like  to  be  only  fleeing  before  one  pack 
of  hounds  after  another,  without  any  definite  aim  of  my  own.  I would 
rather  travel  in  the  road  with  the  certainty  of  meeting  some  persons  who 
would  attempt  my  arrest. 

In  the  twilight,  while  thus  pressing  on,  I met  a negro  ^ driving  a team. 
From  him  I learned  that  I was  within  /our  miles  of  Chattanooga  ! Words 
cannot  describe  the  tide  of  disappointment,  vexation,  and  anger  that  swept 
over  me  as  I thus  realized  that  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts  I was  approach- 
ing that  town  which  I had  learned  to  look  upon  as  the  lion’s  mouth  ! But 
there  was  no  profit  in  giving  way  to  despair. 

Learning  from  the  negro  the  direction  both  of  Ringgold  .^^nd  Chatta- 
nooga, that  I might  have  two  points  by  which  to  set  my  course,  I care- 
fully noted  the  direction  of  the  wind,  which  was,  however,  light  and 
changeable,  and  once  more  set  out.  I did  not  suspect  the  negro,  and  it 
was  little  that  he  could  have  told.  Six  or  seven  miles  would  bring  me  to 
the  Tennessee  if  I was  able  to  keep  my  course.  I crossed  some  terribly 
steep  hills  and  went  down  into  deep  valleys.  This  did  not  dismay  me,  for 
I supposed  that  just  such  country  must  be  passed  over  on  my  way. 
Though  I did  not  know  it,  the  formidable  Lookout  range  was  still  before 
me,  and  to  have  passed  that  would  have  brought  me  very  nearly  where  I 
wished  to  be.  I was  very  hungry  when  I thought  of  food,  but  had  a far 
stronger  desire  to  be  on  the  Tennessee  and  engaged  in  devising  measures 
to  cross  it  than  I had  for  eating.  Neither  did  I now  feel  much  weariness. 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


1 68 

The  need  of  getting  beyond  the  circle  of  pursuit  before  morning,  supplied 
an  intensity  of  will-power  which  banished  fatigue.  If  my  safety  had  de- 
pended on  a straight  march  of  fifty  miles  across  the  country  without  food,  \ 
I think  I would  have  felt  equal  to  the  task,  if  I had  only  known  that  I was  i 
going  in  the  right  direction. 

About  this  time,  the  moon,  which  was  just  past  the  first  quarter,  for  a 
moment  shone  out.  I instantly  took  my  bearings  and  found  that  I was 
heading  right.  Soon  it  was  obscured,  but  I had  hopes  that  after  a little 
the  clouds  would  pass  away,  and  then  all  the  long  night  through,  I would 
be  sure  of  the  way  and  fearless  of  arrest;  for  at  night  in  that  rough  coun-  ^ 
try,  I did  not  think  I could  be  taken  easily  either  by  men  or  dogs — the 
one  I could  shoot,  and  the  other  elude  in  the  woods.  But  the  rain  again 
began  to  fall  and  soon  became  severe.  I now  crossed  a very  large  tract 
of  deadened  timber,  and  when  I reached  the  other  side  in  the  storm  I had 
no  idea  whatever  of  the  direction,  and  was  again  almost  in  despair.  How- 
ever, I walked  on  till  I came  to  a large  road.  This  I resolved  to  follow 
till  I could  by  some  means  ascertain  my  position.  But  It  was  very  hard  ' 
to  tell  which  end  of  it  to  take.  Deciding  almost  at  random,  I followed  its  j 
leadings  for  several  miles,  hoping,  for  the  evening  was  yet  early,  to  meet  J 
some  traveller  from  whom  I could  inquire  the  way.  The  mud  was  fear-  ’ 
fully  deep  and  adhesive;  but  I had  gone  some  miles,  when  I met  three  ^ 
men  on  horseback.  It  was  too  dark  to  tell  whether  they  were  negroes  or  ^ 
white  men;  but  I knew  they  could  not  ride  after  me  in  the  woods  and  ; 
therefore  ventured  to  ask  them:  ; 

“ How  far  is  it  to  Chattanooga  ? '' 

“ Three  miles  ! ! 

“ Is  this  the  road  ? { 

“Yes,  sah  ! right  ahead.  ” : 

It  is  extremely  probable  that  these  men  were  sent  out  to  search  for  % 
members  of  our  party,  and  that  they  did  not  attempt  to  seize  me  because  ] 
of  the  bold  manner  in  which  I accosted  them,  and  because  I was  so 
near  Chattanooga,  and  going  in  that  direction.  They  could  have  done 
nothing,  however,  but  fire  after  me,  and  a shot  from  horseback,  in  the 
dark,  is  not  usually  serious. 

To  say  that  I was  disgusted  and  discouraged  to  find  after  many  t 
miles  of  travelling,  a gain  of  but  one  mile  since  my  last  inquiry,  and  that 
in  the  wrong  direction,  very  faintly  expresses  my  feelings.  It  seemed  as 
if  I was  so  hopelessly  bewildered  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  travel 
any  but  the  wrong  road  ! There  appeared  to  be  some  kind  of  deadly 
magnetism,  which  persistently  drew  me,  in  spite  of  all  efforts,  toward 
Chattanooga,  the  headquarters  of  the  enemy,  and  the  town  for  the  pos-  ^ 
session  of  which  we  had  been  striving  ever  since  the  ill-fated  hour  when 
we  left  MitcheFs  camp.  Yet  the  matter,  mysterious  as  it  seemed  then,  is 


Hunted  in  the  Woods. 


169 


easily  explained  with  the  knowledge  of  the  country  I have  since  obtained. 
Nearly  all  the  roads  for  many  miles  in  every  direction  run  down  the  moun- 
tain vallies,  and  centre  at  Chattanooga.  I would  be  obliged  either  to 
cross  them  all,  in  which  case  I was  in  danger  of  travelling  in  circles,  or  if 
I adhered  to  them  as  I had  done  for  a considerable  part  of  the  time,  I was 
more  likely  to  travel  north  than  south,  and  this  took  me  nearer  and  nearer 
the  enemy's  camp.  How  easy  it  would  have  been  on  this  stormy  night  to 
have  seized  a countryman  and  compelled  him  to  act  as  guide  had  we  but 
remained  together  ! In  this  case  an  equal  amount  of  travel  would  have 
taken  us  out  of  danger. 

But  the  great  mistake  of  the  whole  flight  I made  just  here.  With  all 
my  wanderings,  1 was  very  near  the  point  I wished  to  reach  had  I but  known 
it.  I had  always  thought  of  Chattanooga  as  directly  between  me  and  the 
Tennessee.  But  in  fact  I was  within  half  a mile  of  the  bank  of  that  stream 
three  miles  further  down  than  Chattanooga,- — and  in  daylight  would  have 
seen  it,  or  at  least  the  hills  beyond,  without  the  slightest  difficulty.  I was 
almost  at  the  northern  point  of  Lookout  Mountain  and  could  have  left  the 
road  on  the  western  side,  and  gone  round  the  spur  of  the  mountain,  and  be- 
fore morning  have  been  in  a comparatively  safe  position — all  of  this  with  less 
travelling  than  I afterwards  did.  But  in  the  absence  of  any  such  knowledge 
I took  a course  which  carried  me  far  back  into  the  enemy’s  country. 
When  the  horsemen  had  gone  by  I followed  them  some  three  or  four  miles 
so  as  to  put  that  much  ground  between  myself  and  Chattanooga.  Then 
I came  to  a large  road  running  at  right  angles  with  my  own  which  ter- 
minated where  it  joined  the  other.  Again  I was  perplexed,  for  my  old  road 
had  wound  among  the  hills  in  such  a crooked  manner  that  it  did  not  even 
give  me  the  direction  of  Chattanooga. 

Many  a time,  in  old  astronomical  days,  had  I wished  for  the  breaking 
away  of  the  clouds  to  show  me  the  moon  and  stars,  but  never  with  such 
anxiety  as  at  this  moment;  again  and  again  I looked  upward.  The  sky 
must  clear  at  some  time,  but  when  ? The  opportunity  of  travel  in  com- 
parative safety  which  I enjoyed  this  night  would  not  last;  and  my  own 
strength  which  I was  using  so  freely,  would  not  endure  always.  At  length 
I made  a choice  and  hurried  forward;  but,  as  usual,  I chose  wrong;  for 
after  I had  travelled  many  miles,  the  moon  broke  again  through  a rift  in 
the  clouds  and  poured  her  welcome  light  over  the  dark  pine- covered  hills 
among  which  I was  passing.  That  one  glance  was  most  disheartening;  I 
was  heading  eastward — directly  toward  the  railroad,  which  it  seemed  I had 
left  an  age  ago.  I had  taken  the  highway  to  Ringgold  ! Wearily  I turn- 
ed and  retraced  my  steps.  If  the  moon  would  only  continue  to  shine  for 
the  rest  of  the  night,  I would  forget  the  wanderings  of  the  past,  and  keep- 
ing to  the  roads  that  ran  west  and  north,  so  far  as  I found  them  suitable, 
would  still  be  far  on  the  way  by  daybreak. 


Daring  and  Suffering.  . 


170 

But  alas  ! the  moonshine  was  brief.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  a dark 
cloud  swept  up  from  the  west  directly  ahead,  and  the  moon  was  once  more 
hidden.  As  her  light  died  away  from  the  landscape,  hope 'almost  died  1 
from  my  heart ! One  of  my  feet,  which  had  been  injured  a few  months 
before,  now  pained  me  excessively.  Still  I dragged  myself  along,  impelled 
by  a kind  of  restless  energy  or  nervous  fever.  The  long-continued  tension 
played  strange  tricks  with  my  senses,  which  became  more  marked  as  the 
night  advanced.  I came  again  to  the  place  I had  made  the  wrong  choice 
of  roads,  and  taking  the  other  end  still  toiled  on. 

Another  element  of  discomfort  was  added  to  the  cup  of  misery  which  ^ 
was  now  almost  full.  I was  thinly  clad,  while  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and 
the  cold  wind,  which  had  risen  with  the  last  storm,  drove  it  with  great 
violence  against  me,  until  my  teeth  chattered  and  I shivered  to  the  bone. 
The  night  seemed  to  be  growing  constantly  worse.  I also  passed  many 
houses,  for  I was  following  a highway,  and  feared  the  barking  of  the  dogs 
would  betray  me;  but  the  people  were  either  not  apprised  of  our  raid  so  % 
far  away,  or  they  did  not  care  to  turn  out  for  the  hunt  in  such  a night. 
The  storm  which  added  so  much  discomfort  to  our  situation  at  least  serv-  < 
ed  us  the  good  turn  of  making  pursuit  very  difficult  and  disagreeable.  I i 
heard  but  little  of  the  barking  of  the  hounds  and  that  in  the  distance.  ’ 
The  lonely,  fearful,  stormy  night  seemed  to  be  all  my  own.  , 

This  comparative  repose,  for  I was  now  travelling  along  a straight  road  ^ 
and  at  only  a moderate  gait,  served  to  soothe  my  overv/rought  nerves,  and  ; 
produce  the  natural  result  of  indescribable  weariness.  I must  rest  some-  : 
where.  There  was  no  barn  or  house  which  I dared  approach  for  fear  of  • 
being  found  in  my  sleep  by  dogs  or  men.  But  I reeled  to  a large  log  that  ’ 
lay  only  a few  hundred  yards  from  the  edge  of  the  road  in  a small  patch  \ 
of  woodland,  and  crawling  partially  under  it,  not  only  for  shelter  from  the  { 
driving  rain,  but  still  more  for  concealment  from  my  worse  dreaded  human  ^ 
foes,  I soon  slept  the  sound  and  dreamless  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion.  ! 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A SAD  SABBATH  MORNING. 

WHAT  follows  is  an  experience  so  purely  personal,  so  easily  ex- 
plained by  natural  laws,  but  so  mysterious  to  me  then,  that  I 
would  hesitate  to  relate  it,  were  it  not  that  only  by  such  minute 
pictures  of  real  experience  can  any  just  idea  of  the  cost  and  misery  of  the 
war  of  the  rebellion  be  obtained.  Doubtless  most  that  I then  felt  has  been 
experienced  hundreds  or  thousands  of  times  by  fugitive  slaves  in  the  olden 
days,  when  trying  to  escape  from  unendurable  bondage;  but  few  of  them 
have  had  the  opportunity  to  tell  the  tale  of  their  sufferings.  When  the 
war  came  the  circle  of  suffering  widened,  in  the  providence  of  God,  to 
include  those  who  had  thought  that  such  things  had  no  personal  interest 
for  them. 

Yet  the  incidents  that  follow  were  on  the  whole  marked  by  a lessening 
of  conscious  suffering.  Only  indirectly  do  they  bear  witness  to  the  agony 
and  the  effort  that  preceded  and  accompanied  them.  Up  to  this  time 
the  image  of  that  terrible  night  is  graven  on  my  memory  as  with  a pen  of 
fire.  After  this  a most  wonderful  change  took  place,  and  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a few  real  incidents  that  aroused  me  from  my  trance,  it  floated 
before  me  with  more  than  the  voluptuous  splendor  of  an  opium  dream. 
Probably  the  nearest  analogy  to  the  state  in  which  I found  myself  is  that 
of  the  drunkard  who  experiences  the  horrors  of  delirium  tremens.  But 
there  were  clear  and  well-marked  differences.  The  cause  was  no  doubt 
purely  natural,  arising  from  fatigue,  hunger,  dampness,  and  intens-i 
physical  and  mental  exertion.  But  I will  state  exactly  what  occurred  and 
permit  each  one  to  draw  his  own  conclusions. 

How  long  I slept  on  the  water-soaked  leaves  I have  no  idea— probably 
not  a great  while;  but  I seemed  in  an  instant  to  be  wide  awake  with  a 
perfect  realization  of  my  position.  In  addition  to  this  I seemed  to  hear 
some  one  whisper,  as  plainly  as  I ever  heard  human  voice:  “ Shoot  him  ! 
I shoot  him  ! Let  us  shoot  him  before  he  wakes.’* 

The  impression  that  flashed  across  me  was  that  a party  of  rebels  had 
discovered  my  hiding-place  and  were  about  to  murder  me  in  my  sleep  to 
save  themselves  further  trouble;  and  I thought  with  a thrill  of  wonder  and 
almost  of  relief,  “This  is  the  last  of  earth  for  me  !”  But  immediately 
after  this  followed  another  thought  only  less  appalling:  “ Was  I insane. 


1/2 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


or  were  my  senses  playing  false.’*  1 slowly  opened  my  eyes  and  looked 
about  to  see  if  I could  determine  the  matter. 

Can  any  man  in  the  quiet  of  home  realize  what  it  is  to  awaken  suddenly  , 
from  a dreamless  sleep,  and  find  himself  alone,  in  a dark  wood,  in  a pelt- 
ing rain,  and  know  that  he  is  hunted  by  remorseless  foes  who  would  not 
hesitate  to  tear  him  limb  from  limb — the  men  scarcely  less  than  the  hounds! 

If  so,  he  can  estimate  the  wonder  that,  with  all  this  knowledge,  I felt  at 
the  character  of  the  visions  that  rose  before  my  eyes. 

I was  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  and  the  moon  behind  the  clouds 
gave  light  enough  to  see  dimly  the  objects  around.  Directly  before  me 
stood  a small  tree.  The  first  glance  showed  a tree  and  nothing  else.  But 
the  next  moment  the  tree  seemed  to  break  up  into  an  innumerable  multi- 
tude of  the  most  beautiful  forms.  There  were  angels,  in  softest  outlines, 
their  heads  nodding  with  plumes  above  all  beauty,  and  their  wings  slowly 
waving  with  borders  of  violet  and  pearl.  In  every  direction  I saw  the 
same  splendid  assemblage.  The  whole  sombre  and  awful  wood  was  sud-  i 
denly  transformed  into  a glorious  scene,  a Paradise  of  beauty,  in  which 
moved  a vast  company  of  lovely  beings.  They  were  of  all  kinds  that 
were  pleasing  and  harmless,  and  on  every  hand  were  brilliant  colors  and 
the  most  melodious  sounds.  There  were  ladies,  flowers,  and  children; 
little  cherubs  floated  around  on  cloudlets  of  amber  and  gold.  Indeed 
everything  beautiful  and  pleasant  that  the  imagination  could  conceive  was 
comprised  in  this  gorgeous  vision,  which  to  my  unutterable  surprise  sprung 
up  in  the  midnight  woods.  It  was  a fine  beginning  for  the  Sabbath,  which 
had  probably  replaced  the  terrible  Saturday  while  I slept. 

The  most  singular  fact  of  all  was  that  though  the  brain  and  eye  were 
thus  impressed  with  what  had  no  existence,  I was  perfectly  calm,  knowing 
the  whole  thing  to  be  but  a pleasing  illusion,  which  I could  in  a moment 
distinguish  from  real  objects,  and  not  in  the  least  fearing  these  figures  of  ’ 
the  brain.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  excellent  company.  They  did 
not  always  present  the  same  characters.  Sometimes  they  were  old  feudal 
Knights  in  glittering  armor,  either  on  foot  or  on  horseback,  but  never 
hostile  to  me.  The  finest  landscapes  would  start  up  from  the  cold,  dull 
hills  around,  like  mirages  in  the  desert;  even  language  was  not  denied  to  ^ 
my  visitants,  whose  voices  were  inexpressibly  melodious;  every  thought  i 
that  passed  through  my  mind  seemed  to  be  spoken  aloud. 

Another  marvel  I connected  with  this  singular  experience,  and  which 
I can  explain  on  no  other  theory  than  the  kindness  of  my  Heavenly 
Father,  is  that  all  of  these  visions  were  pleasant  and  agreeable.  No  tear- 
ing to  pieces  by  wild  beasts,  no  venemous  serpents,  no  demons,  such  as 
the  drunkard  sees,  though  my  situation  might  well  have  suggested  any  of 
these.  I do  not  know  of  any  merely  natural  explanation  of  any  of  these  j 
peculiar  features  of  my  illusions.  y 


173 


A Sad  Sabbath  Morning, 

I also  felt  refreshed  and  endowed  with  new  strength.  The  sleep  en- 
joyed would  have  accounted  for  part  of  this  vigor,  but  only  for  a very 
small  part,  as  I seemed  now  to  be  lifted  at  once  above  all  fatigue  and 
every  feeling  of  discomfort.  Even  the  merciless  pelting  of  the  cold  rain 
seemed  pleasant  and  luxurious  as  a cool  bath  in  the  heat  of  midsummer. 
To  walk  or  to  run  seemed  far  more  easy  than  ever  in  my  life.  I had 
scarcely  the  sense  of  distance  or  effort,  but  the  sensation  experienced  when 
going  at  full  speed  was  more  like  floating  along  in  a dream.  Yet  the  trav- 
elling was  no  dream  but  a reality,  and  mile  after  mile  passed  with  an  ease 
and  swiftness  that  in  my  strongest  days  I could  never  have  rivalled.  And 
beyond  all  the  illusions  which  seemed  somewhat  shadowy  and  gauze- like, 
another  faculty  penetrated  and  showed  me,  though  but  dimly,  the  true 
face  of  the  country. 

Once  the  real  and  the  ideal  became  mingled  and  very  nearly  involved 
me  in  serious  difficulty.  At  a cross  road  some  distance  ahead  I saw 
what  at  first  appeared  to  be  some  of  my  spectral  friends,  standing  around 
a fire,  the  ruddy  blaze  of  which  rendered  them  clearly  visible.  They 
were  not  so  beautiful  as  others,  but  still  I advanced  unsuspectingly  toward 
them,  and  would  soon  have  been  in  their  midst  had  not  my  progress  been 
sharply  arrested  by  a sound  of  all  others  the  least  romantic — the  squeal- 
ing of  a pig  they  were  killing  preparatory  to  roasting  in  the  fire  ! This 
at  once  drove  away  all  visions  and  left  me  in  full  possession  of  my  facul- 
ties. I listened  and  became  convinced  that  this  was  a picket  sent  out  to 
watch  for  just  such  persons  as  myself  ! They  had  also  some  dogs  with 
them,  which  were  fortunately  too  much  absorbed  in  the  dying  agonies  of 
the  poor  pig  to  give  much  attention  to  me. 

I crawled  cautiously  away  and  made  a long  circuit  through  the  fields. 
A dog — possibly  a sentinel  cur — followed  and  made  himself  exceedingly 
annoying  by  continuing  to  bark  after  me.  I did  not  fear  him  on  his  own 
account,  for  I had  yet  my  trusty  revolver  which  I had  managed  to  keep 
dry  all  this  time;  but  I feared  that  he  might  attract  the  attention  of  the 
guard,  who  if  they  could  not  capture  me  then  would  at  least  be  able  to 
inform  the  people  of  the  country,  when  daybreak  came,  that  I was  some- 
where in  the  neighborhood. 

At  last  he  left  me  and  I made  my  way  back  to  the  road,  but  had  not 
proceeded  far  until  I came  to  some  horses  hobbled  down,  probably  belong- 
ing to  the  picket  behind,  slnd  had  to  make  another  circuit  to  avoid  driving 
them  away  before  me.  Returning  again  to  the  road,  I pressed  on  as 
rapidly  as  practicable,  hoping  before  the  morning  light,  as  I was  now  go- 
ing on  a road  that  seemed  to  lead  straight,  to  be  beyond  the  circle  of 
guarded  roads  and  planters  hunting  for  fugitives  with  their  dogs.  It  was 
a vain  hope,  but  I knew  not  the  gigantic  plan  of  search  that  had  been 
organized.  The  visions  which  had  made  the  lonely  wood  almost  a para- 


174 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


disc  now  began  to  fade.  For  several  hours,  probably  from  about  mid- 
night till  near  daybreak,  they  had  been  agreeable  society  in  the  absence 
of  comrades,  but  they  were  becoming  more  and  more  dim;df  I wished  ^ 
their  presence,  it  required  an  effort  to  summon  up  any  special  scene.  At 
the  same  time  the  sense  of  weariness  came  back — not  excessive  at  first, 
but  all  the  extraordinary  power  in  which  I had  rejoiced  gradually  passed 
away.  There  was,  however,  no  lessening  of  the  grim  determination  I felt 
to  do  everything  in  my  power  to  secure  my  own  escape.  I had  no  scruple 
as  to  the  means.  After  the  suffering  I had  passed  through,  to  deceive  the 
enemy  in  any  possible  manner,  to  enlist  in  their  army  with  all  pledges  of 
allegiance  to  their  cause,  would  not  have  caused  a moment’s  hesita- 
tion. Neither  did  the  fear  of  detection  or  danger  seem  especially  formi- 
dable. When  a person  is  in  a position  as  desperate  as  possible,  he  may  very 
safely  venture  changing  it  for  any  other;  it  does  not  then  require  courage 
to  accept  risks  which  would  under  other  circumstances  be  appalling.  If  I 
enlisted  in  the  rebel  army  and  was  detected,  the  result  would  be  death;  ^ 
but  I would  be  in  no  more  peril  in  risking  it  than  I was  here.  Slowly  my 
plan  changed,  and  even  before  the  morning  broke  I resolved,  if  it  still  re- 
mained cloudy,  not  to  try  to  avoid  capture,  but  getting  away  as  far  from 
the  scene  of  the  raid  as  I could,  permit  myself  to  be  stopped  and  ques- 
tioned with  the  view  of  enlisting.  There  was  but  one  slight  flaw  in  this 
plan,  the  character  of  which  will  be  revealed  further  on.  - 

The  gloomy  dawn  of  the  rainy  day  drove  the  chill  horror  of  my 
situation  still  deeper  into  my  veins.  I would  find  myself  staggering  along 
almost  asleep;  would  sink  to  the  ground  at  the  root  of  a tree,  or  in  an 
angle  of  the  fence,  and  sleep  for  a moment  until  awakened  by  the  stiffen- 
ing cold;  and  then  plod  on  for  a short  time  again. 

Here  a little  incident  of  a more  pleasant  character  occurred,  which  was 
purposely  omitted  in  the  first  edition  of  my  book,  because  it  might  have 
wrought  injury  to  one  who  befriended  me,  as  the  rebel  power  then  extend- 
ed over  this  ground.  Wishing  to  rest  for  a little  time  where  I would  be 
warmer,  I crawled  into  a heap  of  corn  fodder  in  a shed.  I was  awakened 
soon  after  by  an  approaching  footstep.  Not  fearing  a solitary  man,  I did 
not  try  to  get  away.  When  he  accosted  me,  I told  him  the  old  Kentucky 
story,  used  on  the  way  down,  but  in  a very  brief  form,  as  I was  cold,  hun- 
gry, and  desperate.  He  only  sighed,  and  said,  “ This  terrible  war  ! I wish 
all  our  boys  were  at  home  ! Then  he  added  the  welcome  words,  “ Come 
and  let  me  give  you  something  to  eat.”  I felt  that  he  was  a Union  man, 
but  did  not  wish  to  commit  him  by  any  further  help  than  the  provisions 
he  offered.  I went  with  him,  and  he  gave  me  what  happened  to  be  ready. 
Probably  he  had  not  heard  of  our  raid,  and  took  me  for  a deserter  from 
the  Confederate  army,  or  a fugitive  from  the  conscription.  \ 

I was  not  willing  to  remain  long,  for  the  house  was  by  the  side  of  the  \ 

i 


A Sad  Sabbath  Morning, 


175 


road,  and  at  any  moment  a cavalry  force  might  ride  up;  and  he  was  also 
quite  ready  to  have  me  pass  on.  The  food  he  so  generously  bestowed 
imparted  strength  for  a time,  and  renewed  hope.  It  was  the  only  morsel 
of  anything  I had  eaten  for  thirty-six  hours.  He  said,  as  I parted  from 
him,  “ DonT  mention  to  any  one  that  you  have  been  here,  ” a charge  I 
faithfully  observed,  until  making  the  present  record,  which  can  do  no  harm. 

Once  more  travelling  on  I determined  to  keep  a short  distance  from 
the  road  that  I might  not  be  discovered  by  those  who  were  on  it.  This 
made  travelling  very  slow  but  it  was  more  prudent — at  least  till  that  time 
in  the  day  when  I should  feel  willing  to  travel  openly  as  a person  intend- 
ing to  enlist  at  a convenient  point. 

As  the  morning  advanced  I saw  the  people  going  to  church.  I kept 
well  away  from  the  road,  but  did  not  hide,  reflecting  that  I was  already 
so  far  away  that  they  would  not  readily  connect  me  with  the  railroad 
adventure  even  if  they  had  heard  of  it  themselves;  and  if  questioned,  they 
would  hardly  judge  me  to  be  anything  worse  than  some  poor  recruit  try- 
ing to  run  away  from  the  terrible  conscript  law.  The  sacred  day  and  the 
church-going  people  did  bring  some  influences  of  a religious  nature  to 
bear  on  my  mind,  and  from  this  time  may  be  traced  a series  of  providences 
which  led  to  conversion  and  ultimate  entrance  upon  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry. But  the  beginnings  were  very  faint.  I thought  of  God  as  the  all- 
powerful  Ruler,  and  with  a sense  of  consolation  and  rest  realized  that  my 
life  and  destiny  were  in  his  hands,  and  not  in  those  of  the  deadly  enemies 
by  whom  I was  surrounded.  I thought  of  my  own  father  and  mother  in 
the  far-off  Ohio  home,  probably  going  to  church  at  that  very  hour,  and 
remembered  with  a thrill  of  regret  how  little  value  I had  placed  on  such 
privileges.  I thought  how  good  the  Lord  had  been  to  me  during  all  my 
army  life,  and  how  poor  a return  I was  making.  At  this  time  I was  a 
believer  in  the  Bible,  but  had  not  tried  to  make  any  practical  use  of  it. 
In  fact,  J had  a vague  notion  that  I would  have  to  wait  until  I had  passed 
through  some  great  change,  with  which  I had  but  little  to  do,  before  I 
could  take  any  steps  toward  a religious  life;  and  until  that  came,  the  ut- 
most in  my  power  was  to  remain  sober,  be  a good  citizen  and  soldier,  and 
live  a tolerably  moral  life.  To  some  it  may  seem  incredible,  but  it  is  ab- 
solutely true,  that  all  the  falsehoods  we  had  told  the  enemy,  and  all  the 
many  more  we  meant  to  tell,  were  not  thought  of  as  in  the  least  interfer- 
ing with  the  highest  standard  of  morality.  Indeed,  if  any  one  had  pro- 
posed the  view  that  we  v/ere  committing  sin  in  deceiving  the  enemy,  I am 
not  sure  that  we  would  have  understood  his  meaning,  or  have  believed 
in  his  sincerity.  Religion,  as  the  sense  of  a conscious  dependence  on 
God  and  a consistent  and  sincere  effort  to  walk  according  to  His  revealed 
will,  was  yet  in  the  future;  and  before  I could  seek  earnestly  to  realize 
it,  sufferings  were  to  be  met  of  which  I had  little  idea, 


1/6 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


But  I turned  resolutely  away  from  all  thoughts  of  home  or  of  Heaven 
or  the  sacred  associations  of  the  Sabbath  as  if  they  were  mere  weaknesses, 
and  concentrated  my  attention  in  devising  the  best  methods  of  answering 
the  questions  that  would  follow  arrest.  A line  of  pretense  as  to  my 
Southern  sympathies  and  history  from  the  time  I left  Kentucky  till  the 
present  was  outlined,  and  left  to  be  filled  up  as  occasion  rendered  expedient. 
Unfortunately  the  basis  of  the  whole  continued  to  be  the  same  we  had  all 
told  on  entering  the  enemy’s  territory.  In  arranging  siich  lines  of^  de- 
fense, my  partial  legal  education  was  not  without  its  value;  but  my  best 
preparation  I felt  was  inadequate  to  resist  a really  searching  cross-exam- 
ination, for  I lacked  the  means  to  build  upon. 

Such  thoughts,  and  constant  plodding  on,  brought  me  about  noon  to 
the  little  town  of  Lafayette,  in  Georgia.  It  is  a mere  country  village, 
though  a county-seat,  and  is  in  one  of  the  loneliest  and  most  inaccessible 
parts  of  the  South,  being  twenty  miles  away  from  Ringgold,  the  nearest 
railway  station,  and  twenty-seven  from  Chattanooga.  With  all  my  wan 
derings  this  was  not  bad  progress  for  twenty-four  hours  of  storm!  Several 
roads  met  here,  and  as  I wished  to  get  within  following  distance  of  one 
that  would  lead  south  or  south-west,  I selected  what  I judged  to  be  a 
favorable  place  and  asked  the  way  to  Rome,  and  to  Corinth  in  Mississippi. 
The  direction  was  given,  but  either  there,  or  somewhere  else  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  town,  I was  observed,  and  a party  of  pursuit  i^mmediately 
made  up,  I knew  nothing  of  my  danger  till  a mile  or  two  from  the  village, 
when  I heard  a loud  voice  behind  calling;  Stop  there  ! stop  I we  want  to 
speak  with  you  ! ” 

Turning,  I saw  a party  of  more  than  twenty  men,  armed  with  various 
kinds  of  guns,  and  the  foremost  of  them  perhaps  fifty  yards  distant.  As 
some  mounted  men  were  among  them,  and  the  country  around  quite  open, 
there  did  not  appear  to  be  any  chance  either  to  fight  or  run.  Now  was 
the  time  to  put  in  execution  the  plans  I had  been  meditating  all  the 
morning.  I had  money,  and  had  as  far  as  possible  removed  all  trace  of 
the  night  in  the  woods  from  my  clothes.  Could  I induce  the  rebels  them- 
selves to  believe  my  story,  and  let  me  travel  toward  some  point  where 
there  was  a Confederate  regiment  for  the  purpose  of  enlisting?  This 
would  be  a patriotic  errand,  and  give  me  an  unsuspected  point  to  aim  for, 
until  the  sky  cleared,  and  I could  take  a better  start  northward,  either 
before  or  after  enlisting  under  the  rebel  flag. 

Accordingly  I halted  and  asked  in  as  bold  and  frank  a tone  as  I could 
command,  “What  do  you  want.  Gentlemen? 

They  gathered  around  quite  close  before  making  any  reply,  and  then 
a conceited  little  fellow  who  had  the  shoulder-straps  of  a Lieutenant,  but 
who  was  called  Major,  became  spokesman.  He  said  that  they  wanted  to 
talk  with  me  for  a short  time. 


A Sad  Sabbath  Morning, 


177 


I said,  “ Very  well;  I will  be  glad  to  hear  anything  you  have  to  say/’ 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  for  a few  minutes,  and  then  the  Major 
continued: 

“We  have  no  doubt  you  are  all  right,  but  strange  things  have  hap- 
pened about  here,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  question  every  stranger  that  passes 
through  the  country/’ 

“What  strange  things  I inquired.  It  was  easier  to  ask  than  to 
answer  questions. 

“ The  Yankees  nave  captured  a train  on  the  railroad  and  we  are  look- 
ing for  them  everywhere.’’ 

I was  exceedingly  surprised;  said  I had  not  heard  of  it;  and  asked  if 
they  were  sure  the  news  was  true.  He  said  that  there  was  no  doubt  of  it, 
but  that  they  would  like  to  know  who  I was,  where  I came  from,  and 
where  I was  going — the  usual  formula  of  questions.  I gave  my  name  as 
John  Thompson,  of  Fleming  Co.,  in  Kentucky.  I had  left  home  because 
I could  no  longer  endure  the  terrible  oppressions  of  the  I.incoln  Govern- 
ment, and  meant,  as  soon  as  I had  looked  about  me  a little,  to  enlist  in 
the  army  and  fight  for  our  common  rights  He  said  that  this  sounded 
well  and  was  no  doubt  all  true,  but  it  would  be  necessary  for  them  to 
search  me  and  see  if  all  my  possessions  were  in  harmony  with  my  claims;  and 
he  was  sure  that  as  a good  Southern  man  I would  not  mind  that  slight 
inconvenience  for  the  country's  good.  I begged  him  to  proceed,  assuring 
him  that  he  would  find  nothing  wrong.  I felt  safe  enough  in  this  particu- 
lar, as  I had  been  careful  before  leaving  camp  to  divest  myself  of  all 
Federal  marks.  In  fact  the  South  was  so  full  of  Northern  manufactures, 
that  in  the  absence  of  papers  or  army  equipments  it  is  hard  to  name  any 
article  of  general  use  that  would  have  been  compromising.  He  found  a 
very  good  revolver  with  plenty  of  ammunition,  but  that  was  in  keeping 
for  a Kentuckian.  My  money  was  all  Confederate,  and  everything  else 
right.  One  matter  gave  me  some  uneasiness;  but  it  was  needless.  I 
always  wore  my  spectacles,  keeping  them  tied  on  my  head  for  safety. 
Had  they  been  taken  I would  have  been  well  nigh  helpless.  But  no  refer- 
ence was  made  to  them  either  at  this  or  at  any  other  time.  The  frames 
were  of  silver,  but  had  suffered  so  much  by  exposure  that  they  showed 
little  traces  of  it.  I have  always  wished  that  I might  think  that  they  were 
spared  from  motives  of  humanity;  but  some  things  are  in  the  way  of  that 
explanation. 

The  Major  asked  me  where  I came  from  the  day  before.  I told  him 
that  I had  been  at  Chattanooga  looking  about  for  several  days.  Then  he 
wished  to  know  why  I did  not  enlist  there;  I was  again  on  familiar  ground, 
for  I had  heard  much  of  the  troops  while  on  the  cars  two  days  before.  I 
had  also  heard  the  soldiers  boasting  of  the  First  Georgia  as  a splendid 
regiment,  and  now  told  the  Major  that  I did  not  like  any  of  these  raw  and 


12 


178 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


conscript  regiments  at  Chattanooga,  but  wished  to  go  on  to  Corinth  and  try 
to  get  into  the  First  Georgia.  This  flattered  his  State  pride,  and  he  asked 
the  next  question  as  if  he  wished  a favorable  answer: 

“ Why  did  you  not  go  on  directly  to  Corinth  instead  of  making  a circuit 
out  here  ? ” 

I had  little  idea  how  wide  a circuit  I had  made,  but  answered  confi- 
dently. 

“ Because  Mitchel  has  Huntsville  and  I want  to  keep  out  of  his  reach.” 

This  seemed  so  clear  to  the  little  major  that  he  turned  to  the  crowd 
and  said  quite  heartily. 

We  may  as  well  let  this  man  go,  for  he  seems  to  be  all  right.” 

These  words  rejoiced  me,  but  my  joy  was  premature.  I think  I would 
have  proposed  going  back  to  town  with  them  of  my  own  accord,  and  hiring 
a guide  on  my  way  to  Corinth,  which  I had  money  enough  to  do.  But  a 
dark-complexioned  horseman,  with  his  hat  over  his  brows,  who  had  not 
yet  spoken  a word,  raised  his  eyes  slowly  and  drawled  out; 

“Well  ! Y-e-s  ! perhaps  we’d  as  well  take  him  back  to  town,  and  if 
alPs  right,  maybe  we  can  help  him  on  to  Corinth.^’ 

I neither  liked  his  tone  nor  manner,  but  pretended  to  be  glad  of  the 
opportunity,  and  went  promptly  along.  They  took  me  down  the  single, 
long,  muddy  street  which  composes  almost  the  whole  of  Lafayette,  and 
brought  me  to  the  Goree  HousCy  the  largest  hotel  of  the  place.  My  re- 
ception was  kind  enough,  and,  indeed,  I had  no  reason  to  complain  of  my 
treatment  in  any  particular  up  to  this  period.  I have  no  doubt  that  a 
dinner  would  have  been  given  if  I had  asked  for  it,  and  1 felt  a raging 
hunger;  but  I did  not  want  to  admit  that  I was  fasting.  Tiie  people  of 
the  town  gathered  rapidly,  and  apparently  many  from  the  country  also. 
The  Sabbath  qaiet  was  considerably  disturbed,  though  up  to  this  time 
there  was  no  noise  or  disorder.  The  lawyers  of  the  village  came  in  and 
commenced  asking  all  kinds  of  questions, — many  of  them  much  harder 
than  I had  previously  answered.  When  they  confined  themselves  to  gen- 
eralities, I did  well  enough;  but,  lawyer-like,  they  wanted  to  know  all  about 
a host  of  minute  matters.  Tney  asked  me  from  what  County  in  Kentucky 
I came;  I said,  “Fleming.”  They  asked  the  county-seat.  I gave  the 
name,  “ Flemingsburg,”  without  difficulty;  then  they  capped  the  climax  by 
asking  me  to  bound  the  county  ! I mentioned  a few  counties  at  random 
that  I thought  were  in  that  part  of  the  State  ! They  procured  a map,  and 
laughing  said  it  looked  rather  suspicious  to  find  a man  who  could  not 
bound  his  own  county.  I offered  to  bet  that  none  of  their  neighbors 
standing  around  the  door  could  bound  the  county  we  were  now  in.  They 
would  not  make  the  bet,  but  tried  the  experiment.  I listened  most  in- 
tently, for  the  words  uttered  might  prove  to  be  of  great  practical  use. 
Not  a man  was  able  to  do  it  entirely;  and  as  they  were  comparing  the 


A Sad  Sabbath  Morning.  1 79 

map  with  the  answers,  I received  a better  idea  of  the  geography  of  that 
part  of  the  State  than  I ever  had  before. 

Tnen  these  inquisitive  people  wanted  to  know  all  about  my  journey 
from  Kentucky  down  to  that  very  day  and  with  what  people  I had  lodged. 
The  first  part  of  the  story  was  easy,  for  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  im- 
agination from  having  free  rein;  but  it  was  very  different,  especially  from 
the  time  I claimed  to  have  left  Chattanooga  on  the  preceding  day.  The 
story  became  very  perilous,  as  all  my  auditors  knew  the  country  around, 
which  I was  fancifully  populating;  but  there  was  no  alternative.  If 
I refused  to  answer  at  all,  silence  would  be  set  down  as  a confession  of 
guilt  and  myself  as  a stubborn  and  morose  fellow;  while  there  miglit 
even  be  no  small  danger  of  the  lash  and  the  halter  ! As  it  was,  my  assurance 
puzzled  them  somewhat,  and  caused  them  to  nold  numerous  private  con- 
sultations in  which  they  could  only  agree  that  the  matter  needed  further 
investigation.  There  was  something  not  right;  but  what  it  was,  they  could 
not  yet  tell.  I think  from  some  of  their  questions  that  they  imagined  me 
to  be  a rebel  deserter,  and  that  my  real  home  was  not  very  far  away. 
Apparently  they  did  not  suspect  me  of  being  from  the  North.  In  the 
meantime  all  of  them  kept  in  a fairly  good  humor.  Jests  passed  fre,i- 
quently;  if  I found  the  chance  to  ask  a question  that  would  turn  the  laugh 
on  any  of  the  inquisitors,  I used  it,  and  the  others  would  laugh  as  heartily 
as  when  I was  on  the  losing  side.  I feared  no  violence  while  they  were 
in  this  mood,  and,  aside  from  my  hunger  and  fearful  fatigue,  and  the 
assurance  that  in  a moment  the  thin  varnish  of  good  humor  might  be 
turned  into  hate  and  revenge,  I might  also  have  enjoyed  the  badinage. 
But  the  situation  was  really  terrible.  My  only  hope  was  dim  and  far  off 
— that  of  being  permitted  to  go  on  my  way  and  meet  similar  perils,  or  of 
being  enlisted  in  the  rebel  army  to  face  Union  bullets,  and  possibly  die 
in  an  attempt  to  desert.  This  was  the  best;  while  a word  or  an  outside 
incident  might  in  a moment  break  up  our  truce,  and  leave  me  at  the  mercy 
of  a howling  mob.  The  latter  did  happen  not  long  afterward. 

For  four  hours  the  interminable  catechism  went  on.  I saw  the  hands 
of  the  large  clock  in  the  room  move  round  and  round,  and  was  thinking 
that  I would  take  advantage  of  the  next  temporary  pause  to  demand 
supper,  which  would  probably  not  be  refused,  with  the  promise  that  if  they 
would  only  give  me  enough  to  eat,  I would  answer  questions  all  day 
Sunday,  and  Monday  too.  But  I was  saved  further  trouble  in  that  line. 

A noise  was  heard  outside;  there  was  a buzz  of  excitement,  and  a man 
dashed  up  to  the  door  on  a horse  covered  with  foam.  He  shouted, 

‘ ‘ They  have  caught  the  bridge  burriers  ! ’ ' 

In  an  instant  1 was  almost  forsaken,  while  question  after  question  was 
hurled  at  the  messenger. 


i8o 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


Where?  Who  are  they?  What  did  they  do?  What  were  they 
after  ?^’ — are  only  a few  specimens. 

I was  as  deeply  interested  as  any.  My  own  comrades  ! perhaps  they 
had  already  been  shot  or  hung  ! and  I almost  felt  my  heart  stand  still  as 
I waited  for  the  answer.  But  it  came  in  a form  that  I had  never  for  a 
moment  dreamed  of. 

“ They  said  at  first  that  they  zvere  citizens  of  Fleming  Couzity^  Kentucky^ 


News  from  Ringgold.  [The  copy  of  the  Goree  House,  Lafayette,  Ga.,  is  exact.] 


and  afterzvards  ozmied  that  they  were  U7iited  States  soldiers  sefit  South  to  burn 
the  bridges  on  the  State  road ! ” 

I could  hear  exclamations  of  Ah  ! “ Oh  ! all  over  the  room,  and 

a cry  outside,  We’ve  got  one  of  them  here  ! ” Fierce  eyes  gleamed  on 
me,  and  there  were  no  more  jests  or  questions.  Even  yet  no  word  of 
threat  or  insult  was  spoken,  but  stern  looks  were  on  every  hand.  There 
was  a good  deal  of  noise  and  shouting  on  the  street.  Some  of  the  leading 
men  went  into  another  room,  but  came  back  in  a few  minutes,  and  said 
to  me  simply:  “We  will  have  to  take  you  to  jail.”  Without  a word,  I 
rose  from  the  chair  by  the  window  on  which  I had  been  sitting  so  long, 
and  went  with  them. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE  ROLL  OF  THE  CAPTIVES. 

The  certainty  with  which  members  of  our  party  were  identified  when 
arrested  arose  from  two  causes.  The  first  captures  were  so  neat 
the  place  of  the  abandoned  train  that  the  men  could  be  traced 
almost  directly  back  to  it.  A party  of  three  who  were  the  first  taken  were 
hardly  lost  sight  of  from  the  time  they  jumped  from  the  “ General.”  To 
have  denied  their  connection  with  the  raid  was  useless^  and  would  proba- 
bly have  led  to  frightful  beatings, 
as  in  another  c se,  or  to  a speedy 
death.  The  captives  expected 
the  latter;  and  they  only  revealed 
their  names  and  regiments  at  the 
prompting  of  that  deep  feeling 
which  makes  it  hard  to  die  under 
a false  name  and  character.  One 
man  of  the  most  dauntless  cou- 
rage, who  never  did  reveal  any- 
thing until  a council  of  the  pris- 
oners decided  to  abandon  con- 
cealment, told  me  that  he  had 
fully  resolved,  if  put  to  death  in 
the  woods,  that  just  before  he 
died  he  would  give  his  own  name 
and  character,  and  defy  them  to 
do  their  worst.  None  of  those 
first  captured  betrayed  their  com- 
rades, and  no  one  of  them  could  have  given  names  or  descriptions  of 
more  than  two  or  three  of  his  more  intimate  associates,  so  little  had  we 
been  thrown  together.  Not  the  slightest  blame  can  be  attached  to  these 
first  captives,  therefore,  for  revealing  themselves;  but  unfortunately,  they 
first  told  the  old  Kentucky  story  which  had  already  served  us  so  well  that 
we  forgot  that  it  might  wear  out  ! After  that,  whenever  a man  was  found 
hailing  from  this  state  and  county,  he  was  set  down  as  one  of  us,  and  no 
denial  would  even  be  listened  to.  It  would  have  gore  hard  with  any 


1 82  Daring  a}id  Snffermg. 

genuine  resident  of  Fleming  county  who  happened  to  be  travelling  in  the 
South  at  that  time  ! 

Campbell,  the  Hercules  of  the  party,  Slavens,  also  a man  of  massive  < 
proportions,  and  Shadrack,  were  the  first  to  leave  the  fagging  ‘^General.” 

It  has  even  been  said  that  they  jumped  off  under  the  command  of  Andrews 
before  we  reached  Ringgold,  and  that  as  we  came  near  the  town  the  de- 


Slavens,  Campbell,  and  Shadrack  in  chains. 


parture  of  the  others  was  suspended  for  a little  time,  so  that  these  were 
widely  separated  from  the  rest.  This  was  well  adapted  to  the  idea  which 
Andrews  entertained  of  dividing  the  pursuit,  but  the  idea  itself  was  not 
good.  They  were  seen  to  leave  the  train  and  a large  party  with  dogs  was 
qu  ckly  gathered;  having  hidden  to  wait  for  night  they  were  soon  dis- 
covered and  arrested.  They  were  examined,  told  at  first  the  Kentucky 
story,  and  afterward,  finding  that  circumstances  had  fixed  their  connection 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives. 


183 


with  the  flying  train^  they  gave  their  names  and  positions  in  the  army — 
Campbell  claiming,  as  it  had  been  agreed,  that  he  belonged  to  Co.  K,  of 
the  2nd  Ohio.  They  did  this  as  they  thought  their  fate  as  soldiers  might 
possibly  be  better  and  could  not  be  worse  than  that  of  citizens.  They 
were  loaded  with  heavy  irons,  a long  log  chain  being  found,  and  Campbell, 
as  the  largest,  having  the  middle  of  the  chain  locked  around  his  neck  and 
an  end  around  the  necks  of  each  of  the  others.  . They  were  indeed  strongly 
united  in  misfortune;  and  in  this  barbarous  manner  they  were  conducted 
amid  a howling  mob  to  Ringgold  and  afterward  to  Dalton,  in  which  place 
they  remained  for  two  or  three  days,  when  they  were  forwarded  to  what 
proved  to  be  a general  rendezvous 
— Chattanooga. 

Parrott  and  Robinson  went 
into  the  woods  about  the  same 
time  as  the  others,  and  succeeded 
in  eluding  the  pursuit  for  some 
hours;  but  finally  they  either  got 
turned  around  as  I did,  or  finding 
the  Chickamauga  an  obstacle  in 
their  path,  they  faced  eastward 
and  came  clear  back  to  the  rail- 
road. Here  they  were  observed 
and  captured.  Being  not  far 
from  Ringgold  they  were  at  once 
taken  to  that  point,  where  the  ex- 
citement was  still  at  fever  heat. 

Then  occurred  one  of  those 
dreadful  scenes  we  would  gladly 
pass  over,  but  they  are  a part 
of  the  record,  and  to  omit  them 
would  give  a false  impression  of  the  whole  story.  The  two  men  were 
questioned  and  maintained  an  obstinate  silence.  Parrott  was  the  younger, 
being  at  that  time  barely  eighteen.  His  educational  advantages  had  been 
limited,  but  he  had  a clear  head  and  a resolute  character  He  was  sepc> 
rated  from  his  comrade,  and  every  device  used  to  open  his  lips.  He  was 
threatened  with  hanging;  a rope  was  procured,  and  they  were  apparently 
about  to  proceed  in  their  work  when  a colonel,  at  least  addressed  as  such 
— possibly  Col.  Jesse  Glenn,  whose  regiment  was  camped  near  Dalton, 
and  whose  men  at  any  rate  were  engaged  in  this  terrible  affair — interfered 
and  saved  his  life.  A lieutenant  and  four  men  then  took  him  and  strip- 
ping him  naked,  held  him  down  over  a stone,  while  they  inflicted  over  a 
hundred  lashes  on  his  bare  back  ! Several  times  the  whipping  was  sus- 
pended and  he  was  let  up  to  see  if  he  was  ready  to  tell  all  they  wished  to 


Jacob  Parrott.  From  a war-time  photograph. 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


184 

know,  and  especially  who  was  the  engineer  of  the  party.  From  the  very 
first  they  were  anxious  to  ascertain  who  had  run  the  engine,  probably  sup- 
posing him  to  be  a Southern  man  in  league  with  us.  Finally  the  crowd 
themselves  grew  sick  of  the  terrible  work  and  it  ceased,  without  the  poor 
boy  having  uttered  one  word.  His  companion,  however,  believing  that 
they  both  would  be  obliged  to  die,  and  wishing  to  die  under  his  own 
name,  gave  it,  with  his  regiment.  He  had  also  first  tried  the  same  Ken- 
tucky story  in  vain.  They  were  then  ironed  and  taken  off  to  jail. 

These  were  all  that  were  captured  on  the  day  of  leaving  the  train.  In 
the  night  following  none  were  taken  but  Sunday  was  more  fruitful  to  the 
enemy. 

None  of  the  party  had  apparently  a better  opportunity  of  escape  than 
Hawkins  and  Porter.  They  were  left  at  Marietta,  and  felt  wonderfully 
disappointed  and  chagrined  when,  on  reaching  the  station,  they  saw  the 
train  drawing  out.  To  come  all  that  distance  to  join  in  a daring  expedi- 
tion, to  have  all  the  danger,  and  then  at  the  last  moment  to  be  deprived 
of  the  chance  of  thus  striking  a blow  for  their  country,  from  the  prosaic 
cause  of  oversleeping,  was  terrible.  They  strolled  around  town  for  some 
time  listening  for  the  news  of  the  seizure  of  the  train.  Soon  it  came 
with  a wild  burst  of  excitement.  When  they  heard  this  they  were  almost 
ready  to  envy  their  com.rades,  and  to  believe  themselves  in  far  greater 
danger.  After  a little  consultation  they  resolved  that  it  would  be 
best  to  do  what  we  all  had  in  mind  from  the  very  first  as  a possible 
refuge.  They  knew  that  any  persons  attempting  to  go  north  would  be 
closely  watched,  and  that  the  chances  of  reaching  our  lines  would  be  but 
slight.  So  they  walked  the  eight  miles  up  to  Big  Shanty  and  made  due 
application  to  join  one  of  the  regiments  there.  They  were  promptly  as- 
signed to  the  Ninth  Georgia  battalion,  and  a company  in  it  took  a vote  in 
the  fashion  of  southern  volunteers  as  to  whether  they  should  be  admitted. 
They  were  unanimously  elected,  and  all  formalities  being  complied  with, 
they  were  enrolled  under  the  southern  flag.  But  they  did  not  serve  long. 
In  the  kindness  with  which  they  were  received,  much  story-telling  was 
evoked,  and  these  two  gave  their  Kentucky  story  in  all  its  minuteness. 
When  the  news  came  the  next  day  that  all  the  bridge  burners^’  who  had 
been  captured  claimed  at  first  to  be  from  Fleming  Co.,  Kentucky,  it  was 
soon  recalled  that  these  strangers  professed  to  be  from  the  same  place. 
They  were  lost  ! A little  separate  cross-examination  was  sufficient  to 
involve  them  in  hopeless  contradictions,  and  then  they  were  ironed  down 
and  taken  back  to  Marietta,  where  others  of  the  party  were  also  brought. 

The  next  party  in  order  of  capture  was  Dorsey,  Bensinger,  Buffum, 
and  Geo.  D.  Wilson  I give  their  story  substantially  as  told  by  Dorsey, 
with  a few  additions  made  by  Bensinger.  Dorsey  was  among  the  last  to 
leave  the  exhausted  “ General,’’  and  as  they  were  running  at  their  highest 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives, 


185 


speed  in  a north-eastern  direction,  Buffum,  who  had 
on  a large  gray  coat,  spread  open  his  arms,  and  ran 
right  out  of  it,  leaving  it  on  the  top  of  the  weeds 
through  which  he  was  passing.  They  were  soon  in 
the  woods,  and  there  struggled  with  the  same  diffi- 
culties from  the  clouds  and  the  want  of  direction, 
that  I had  found  so  distressing.  All  afternoon  and 
evening  they  either  hid  or  wandered  about,  making 
slow  progress.  Late  at  night  they  came  to  a small 
log  hut.  They  knocked  in  vain,  and  when  they 
went  in,  they  found  the  head  of  the  family  suffering 


under  a sickness 
that  Dorsey  be- 
lie v e d to  be 
feigned,  so  that  their 
application  for  food 
here  did  not  avail. 

Then  they  went  on 
but  slowly,  for  Wil- 
son had  received  a 
severe  injury,  and 
was  not  able  to  walk 
rapidly,  while  the 
others  were  too  loyal 
to  leave  him.  Before 
morning  they  tried 
again  at  a better-look- 
ing house  for  food, 
against  the  wishes  of 
Bensinger,  but  failed 
to  get  admission,  the 
people  not  wishing 

under  such  circum-  _ 

stances  to  open  their  Bloodhounds  seen  on  the  trail. 

doors  to  strangers.  But  on  the  porch  they  found  a bucket  of  milk,  which 
they  drank  to  their  great  refreshment.  Again  they  pushed  on,  till  day- 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


1 86 

break.  There  was  no  sun  to  guide  them  and  they  resolved  to  hide  till 
night.  From  their  place  of  concealment  on  a hillside,  they  saw  pursuers  at 
a distance  nearly  all  the  morning,  but  these  did  not  discover  their  game  for 
some  hours.  At  length  our  comrades  beheld  a sight  which  no  man  could 
look  upon  for  the  first  time  without  feeling  his  flesh  creep  with  horror. 
Three  blood-hounds  in  plain  sight  were  descending  the  opposite  hill,  down 
which  they  had  recently  come,  07i  their  trail  I There  were  four  armed 
men  following  close  and  not  allowing  the  dogs  to  get  far  ahead  of  them. 
The  odds  were  not  unreasonably  great  for  men  fighting  for  life,  and  our 
comrades,  knowing  it  impossible  to  escape  the  dogs,  prepared  for  the  fray; 
but  as  soon  as  the  pursuers  discovered  them,  and  before  coming  within 
striking  reach,  they  set  up  a shout  and  were  answered  in  several  directions, 
and  other  parties  closed  up,  till  soon  not  less  than  fifty  men  were  at  hand. 
There  was  no  longer  hope  in  fighting,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  try 
duplicity.  Geo.  D.  Wilson  had  suggested  that  it  might  be  well  to  discard 
the  Kentucky  story  and  try  something  new,  a wise  precaution  which  all 
of  us  would  have  profited  by  observing.  But  he  did  not  have  time  to  get 
his  companions  drilled  into  it,  and  while  he  spoke  with  his  usjial  confi- 
dence, pretending  to  be  hunting  negroes  and  telling  quite  a plausible  story, 
yet  when  separated  and  pressed  closely  they  soon  entangled  themselves, 
and  the  enemy  became  convinced  that  these  were  none  other  than  the  men 
they  were  in  search  of.  Indeed,  they  were  found  only  nine  miles  away 
from  Ringgold,  and  in  hiding  in  the  woods,  and  it  would  therefore  be  very 
difficult  for  them  to  break  the  force  of  circumstantial  evidence.  Bensin- 
ger  at  once  determined  that  their  only  chance  was  to  acknowledge  their 
membership  in  the  Union  army,  and  claim  protection  under  the  laws  of 
war.  He  feels  sure  even  now  that  this  was  the  wisest  thing  that  could 
have  been  done.  Otherwise  they  would  probably  never  have  been  taken 
to  the  regular  military  authorities  at  all.  Several  of  the  captors,  as  it  was, 
wished  to  shoot  or  hang  them  at  once.  One  young  fellow  clapped  his 
pistol  to  Wilson’s  head  and  was  about  to  fire,  when  his  hand  was  turned 
away  by  a Major.  It  is  wonderful  that  some  at  least  of  our  comrades 
were  not  killed  when  captured.  This  would  only  have  been  what  we  had  ex- 
pected from  the  first.  Possibly  the  undaunted  bearing  of  the  me,n,  and  the 
readiness  with  which  they  joked  in  the  presence  of  death,  had  a restrain- 
ing influence.  In  view  of  the  succeeding  history  the  whole  credit  can 
scarcely  be  given  to  humanity  on  the  part  of  the  captors.  It  may  also  be 
that  curiosity  as  to  the  nature  of  the  expedition  led  them  to  take  as  many 
alive  as  possible  in  the  hope  that  some  light  might  be  afforded.  A^rope 
had  been  prepared  and  brought  along  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  hanging 
all  who  were  captured,  and  they  were  making  ready  to  do  it,  when  Buffum 
said  in  his  most  nasal  tone,  “ Well,  captain,  if  you  are  going  to  send  us 
over  the  river,  can^t  you  give  us  one  good  square  meal  before  we  start?'' 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives.  187 

The  leader  swore  a great  oath,  with  a laugh,  that  Buffum  should  have  all 
that  he  could  eat  before  he  was  hung  ! 

A very  rough  fellow  pressed  the  muzzle  of  a double-barrelled  shot- 
gun against  Dorsey’s  breast,  and  with  finger  on  the  trigger  declared  he 
would  blow  him  through  in  another  minute  if  he  did  not  “ make  a clean 
breast  of  it.”  Without  moving  a muscle,  Dorsey  said,  If  you  want  to 
shoot,  just  shoot.”  He  really  cared  little  at  that  moment,  as  he  had  fully 
made  up  his  mind  that  they  would  be  hung  at  any  rate.  Thus  defied,  the 
fellow  dropped  the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  They,  however,  tied  the  hands  of 
the  four  and  conducted  them  to  a house  a mile  away,  where  they  redeemed 
their  promise  to  Buffum  by  giving  them  a good  dinner.  Then  they  were 
marched  to  Ringgold  on  foot  and  put  into  jail — about  the  same  hour  that 
I had  found  a similar  harbor  at  Lafayette  twenty  miles  distant.  On  this 
Sunday  evening  just  one  half  of  those  who  had  been  on  the  train  were 
captured,  and  also  the  two  who  had  not  been  on  it.  We  were  not  succeed- 
ing very  well  in  our  attempt  to  escape  by  scattering  ! 

The  number  captured  on  Monday  was  not  large  but  relatively  very 
important.  It  has  been  assumed  that  when  Andrews  gave  the  command 
to  disperse,  he  wished  to  go  alone  with  the  view  of  making  his  own  escape 
the  more  easily.  Those  who  think  this  do  not  blame  him,  as  they  judge 
that  by  escaping  quickly,  he  would  have  been  in  a position  to  give  help  to 
those  less  fortunate,  and  they  even  find  some  fault  with  those  who  kept 
with  him.  But  Andrews  never  said  anything  to  indicate  that  he  wishea 
to  be  alone,  seeming  to  think  that  as  the  party  had  come  down  in  small 
squads  they  would  succeed  best  by  returning  in  the  same  manner. 

Andrews,  Ross  and  Wollam  left  the  engine  together.  They  did  not 
make  very  rapid  progress  but  kept  themselves  carefully  concealed  in  the 
day-time.  With  a good  knowledge  of  the  country,  they  made  quite  satis- 
factory progress  in  a strait  line,  and  by  Monday  had  reached  the  slope  of 
Lookout  Mountain.  It  seems  to  have  been  Andrews’s  purpose  to  slowly  and 
carefully  work  his  way  to  a point  where  he  could  avail  himself  of  his  passes, 
some  of  which  he  retained  to  the  last.  He  had  also  a large  sum  of 
money,  and,  with  his  skill  and  address,  there  is  little  doubt  that,  once  clear 
of  the  immediate  surroundings  of  the  expedition,  he  would  be  well  able 
to  provide  for  his  safety.  But  the  employment  of  dogs  in  following  the 
trail,  which  he  seems  not  to  have  expected,  completely  disarranged 
his  plans.  On  Monday  he  and  his  companions  were  followed  in  this 
way.  They  doubled  on  their  track,  and  tried  all  practicable  expe- 
dients for  throwing  the  hounds  off  the  trail,  but  in  vain.  They  prepared  to 
shoot  the  dogs,  but  men  armed  with  guns  kept  close  up.  Andrews  did 
fire  once,  but  the  shot  was  not  effectual.  When  finally  surrounded,  it 
was  done  so  quickly  at  the  last  as  to  be  something'of  a surprise,  and 
Andrews  was  understood  not  to  have  completed  the  destruction  of  some 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


i88 

papers  which  he  had  been  unable  to  get  out  of  the  way.  These,  with 
his  large  amount  of  money, — more  than  two  thousand  dollars, — at  once 
marked  him  out  as  a person  of  consequence,  and,  in  connection  with  his 
striking  personal  appearance,  suggested  the  commanding  stranger  who  had 
acted  as  conductor  of  the  pretended  powder  train.  In  a day  or  two  after 
his  capture,  a number  of  persons  were  found  who  had  known  him  previ- 
ously, and  his  identification  was  complete.  Too  many  persons  were 
acquainted  with  him  in  the  South  for  him  to  have  long  remained  unknown 
in  any  event.  The  same  evening,  Andrews  and  his  two  companions  were 
heavily  ironed  and  borne  to  Chattanooga. 

But  two  more  bands  were  now  at  large,  taking  almost  opposite  courses. 
The  larger  of  these  was  composed  of  Brown,  Knight,  Reddick,  Scott,  and 
Mason.  Scott  lost  his  hat  in  the  first  flight,  but  when  they  came  to  a 
house  where  a Frenchman  lived,  he  ran  in  and  tried  to  beg  a cap;  but  not 
being  able  to  make  himself  understood,  he  took  down  one  hanging  near, 
and  ran  off  with  it,  the  good  wife  chasing  him  and  scolding  in  French  ! 
Knight  thus,  in  substance,  describes  their  adventures: 

^ When  I jumped  off  the  engine  the  pursuing  train  was  in  plain  sight.  I reversed  the 
engine,  but  the  pressure  of  steam  was  too  low  to  carry  it  back  with  any  force.  All  the  rest  of 
the  boys  had  got  quite  a start,  but  I pushed  ahead  and  soon  overtook  them.  We  ran  south- 
west till  we  came  to  the  Chickamauga,  where  we  all  plunged  in  and  pulled  for  the  other  shore, 
holding  our  pistols  up  out  of  the  water  to  keep  our  powder  dry,  and  expecting  a shot  from 
the  rear  every  minute  ; but  we  got  over  and  hid  in  the  brush  before  the  enemy  came  to  the 
other  bank.  We  here  kept  secreted  till  dark,  when  we  moved  on,  but  it  being  rainy,  made 
travelling  tedious.  We  continued  to  hide  by  day  and  travel  in  the  night  for  some  time, 
but  in  the  dark  nights  and  over  the  rough  country  we  did  not  make  very  rapid  progress. 

‘ ‘ After  six  days  we  came  out  of  the  woods,  and  had  to  cross  quite  a slope  of  clear 
country,  which  we  got  over  safely  and  were  going  up  the  mountain  to  the  timber  beyond. 
Mason  and  Scott  were  some  distance  ahead  and  off  to  the  right,  when  all  at  once  a dog 
jumped  up  right  in  front  of  them  and  a man  called  out,  ‘ Halt  ! ’ They  found  themselves 
surrounded  and  at  once  surrendered.  The  rest  of  us  dropped  down  in  the  bushes  and 
crawled  away  around  and  got  clear.  Then  in  going  up  the  mountain  we  came  to  where  the 
rocks  stood  perpendicular.”  [This  was  the  great  rock  parapet  of  Lookout  Mountain,  W.P.] 
“ We  noticed  a big  hole  in  the  top  of  this  ledge,  and  v/e  managed  to  clamber  up  and  get 
into  that.  It  was  quite  a natural  cave  and  as  it  was  now  getting  daylight,  we  put  in  the 
day  there.  We  could  look  clear  over  the  tree  tops,  and  see  into  a little  town.  By  their 
movements  we  could  soon  see  that  they  had  our  comrades  there.  This  was  sad,  but  we  had 
no  means  of  helping  them. 

“When  it  became  dark,  we  crawled  out,  and  went  up  the  slope  to  the  top,  and  then 
travelled  along  the  mountain.  That  night  was  clear,  and  the  mountain  top  quite  level,  so 
we  made  good  time  till  the  morning.  At  daylight  we  were  at  the  lower  end  of  Lookout 
Mountain.  We  were  in  sight  of  a log  house  off  to  the  left  of  us,  and  Brown  and  Reddick 
wanted  to  go  and  get  their  breakfast ; but  I wanted  to  hide  till  night  and  then  go  and  get 
our  supper.  The  difference  was  that  if  anything  happened  we  would  then  have  darkness 
to  escape  in,  and  the  night  before  us.  We  took  a vote,  and  as  two  outvoted  one,  we  went 
to  breakfast.  The  owner  of  the  house  promised  us  something  to  eat  if  we  would  wait  for 
it  to  be  cooked,  but  I noticed  that  he  was  very  uneasy.  He  finally  got  a horse  out  and  I 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives. 


189 


told  our  boys  that  I thought  there  was  mischief  in  the  wind.  We  went  out  to  talk  to  him, 
with  the  notion,  if  all  did  not  seem  right,  of  stopping  him  till  we  got  our  breakfast ; but  he 
said  he  was  going  to  send  his  son  over  to  a neighbor’s  to  plough  his  garden  for  him. 
This  was  so  innocent  that  we  let  him  go,  and  got  our  breakfast.  Then  we  asked  him  the 
road  and  distance  to  Bridgeport,  but  calculated  not  to  go  there  ; (but  we  did  !).  We  started 
up  a hill  on  the  main  road,  but  meant  to  hide  in  the  woods  till  dark.  But  lo  ! there  was  a 
party  of  cavalry  coming  up  the  other  side  and  we  met  at  the  top.  That  was  the  kind  of 
ploughing  that  boy  was  after  ! I was  as  hungry  as  any  one,  and  the  breakfast  good,  but 
I wished  it,  with  the  boy  and  man,  and  the  plough  on  top  of  them,  very  far  off.  They 
halted  us  and  commenced  their  questioning.  We  told  them  we  were  going  to  Chandler’s 
Springs,  Alabama  ; had  come  from  Fleming  Co.,  Ky.  They  asked  us  for  passes,  as  now 
no  body  was  allowed  to  travel  through  the  country  without  a pass.  We  had  none  ; did  not 
know  they  were  needed.  They  asked  us  to  come  along  with  them  to  Bridgeport,  where,  if 
everything  was  straight  we  could  get  the  passes.  We  went  to  Bridgeport  after  a pass,  but 
found  that  they  passed  us  up  to  Chattanoga. " 

The  capture  of  this  party  is  thus  noticed  in  the  Chattanoooga  corres- 
pondence of  The  Southern  Confederacy^  April  19th.  As  these  men  were 
among  the  best  looking  of  us^  the  reader  may  judge  of  the  others! 

“Four  rather  villainous-looking  Yankees  were  arrested  at  some  point  on  the  Willis 
Valley  Railroad,  a few  miles  from  this  place  this  morning.  They  confessed  themselves  to 
be  spies:  said  they  were  part  of  the  party  that  had  stolen  Mr.  Fuller’s  m.ail  train  on  the 
W.  & A.  railroad  ; that  they  were  members  of  an  Indiana  regiment ; that  they  had  been 
'Sent  to  burn  the  bridges  on  the  State  railroad  ; and  that  nearly  every  regiment  in  the 
western  department  of  the  Federal  army  was  represented  in  a similar  way.  They  are  now 
here  in  jail  awaiting  further  trial.  ” 

The  last  of  ail  these  narratives  is  intensely  interesting,  because  of  its 
wide  variety  of  adventures,  the  light  it  throws  upon  the  loyal  East 
Tennessee  Mountaineers — ^some  of  the  noblest  people  in  the  world— and 
their  modes  of  life  in  the  midst  of  enemies;  and  because  these  men  alone 
of  all  the  band  actually  reached  the  Union  lines,  though  there  was  a 
startling  sequel  even  to  that.  These  two  were  Wilson,  our  fireman,  and 
Wood,  our  only  Englishman.  The  account  is  extracted  from  Wilson’s 
book,  though  with  his  consent  I have  slightly  abridged  it.  The  instinct 
for  the  water  shown  by  Wilson  in  his  attempts  to  escape  is  curious.  No 
others  of  the  party  made  such  use  of  the  streams.  After  describing  the 
abandonment  of  the  train,  Wilson  begins:^ 

“ After  running  some  distance.  Wood  and  I came  to  a large,  open  field,  on  the  slope 
of  a mountain  just  in  front  of  us.  To  attempt  to  cross  this  space  would  expose  us  too 
much,  and  we  were  nearly  out  of  breath.  We  could  hear  the  enemy  shouting,  and  the 
constant  report  of  fire-arms  warned  us  that  the  remorseless  crowd  was  waging  a war  of  ex- 
termination. There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  A fortuitous  circumstance  saved  us.  The 
woods  were  too  open  for  a man  to  hide  in,  but  as  I glanced  about  I saw  where  a tree  had 
been  cut  down,  probably  the  'summer  previous,  and  the  brush  which  had  been  trimmed  off 


^ Adventures  of  Lieut.  J.  A.  Wilson  (Toledo,  O.,  1880),  page  53. 


Darmg  and  Suffering. 


190 

lay  scattered  around  with  the  dried  leaves  still  clinging  to  it.  My  plan  was  formed  in- 
stantly and  I told  Wood  to  lay  down.  I hastily  laid  a few  leafy  boughs  on  him  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  show  that  they  had  been  displaced.  Mark  was  soon  out  of  sight  in  a 
little  flat,  unpretentious  pile,  that  would  scarcely  be  noticed  among  the  other  rubbish,  and 
with  almost  the  quickness  of  a rabbit  I slipped  out  of  sight  under  the  heap  by  Mark’s  side. 

I now  drew  my  revolver,  and  told  Mark  to  do  likewise.  I felt  a sense  of  desperation 
which  I had  never  felt  before.  We  were  in  a high  state  of  excitement,  and  realized  that  the 
frenzied  crowd  of  man-hunters,  then  deploying  all  over  the  woods,  would  show  us  no 
mercy.  From  the  constant  report  of  fire-arms  which  rang  in  our  ears  we  had  reason  to 
believe  that  some  of  our  unfortunate  comrades  were  being  shot  down  like  cattle,  perhaps 
all  except  ourselves  had  been  killed. 

“ In  my  concealment  I felt  all  the  desperation  and  anguish  of  mind  that  a man  could 
feel.  We  had  failed  and  were  disappointed.  We  had  been  run  down  and  had  gone  to 
the  last  extremity  of  human  endurance  to  make  our  escape.  Our  enemies  were  infuriated. 
We  had  made  such  superhuman  exertions  within  the  last  half  hour,  ending  in  our  up-hill 
race  to  the  brush-heap,  that  we  were  almost  breathless.  It  did  not  at  that  time  seem  to  me 
that  it  would  require  many  rebel  bullets  to  finish  my  part  of  the  story.  Several  times,  as  they 
passed  us  so  close  that  I could  have  touched  their  legs  with  my  hand,  I was  on  the  point 
of  springing  up,  and,  with  a loud  yell,  beginning  the  work  of  death  at  close  range  with  my  i 
revolver.  I could  not,  even  in  a whisper,  communicate  my  wishes  to  Wood,  without  be- 
traying our  place  of  concealment.  But  our  pursuers  made  so  much  noise  themselves  that 
they  could  near  nothing  else.  They  were  all  yelling,  swearing,  cursing  and  shouting. 
We  could  hear  much  of  the  conversation  as  they  passed  us.  Two  men,  each  with  a mus- 
ket, as  they  passed  near  us.  spied  two  of  our  comrades  going  across  a distant  part  of  the 
great  open  field. 

“ ‘ There  goes  two  of  them,’  said  one  of  the  pursuers.  ‘ Come  on,  let’s  go  for  them.’. 

“ ‘ Let  us  get  some  more  help,’  said  the  other. 

“ ‘ But,  you  see,  they  have  no  guns,’  said  the  first. 

“ And  thus  they  passed  out  of  hearing,  halting  and  debating,  but  evidently  distrusting 
the  policy  of  tackling  the  train-robbers  even-handed. 

“ It  was  some  time  in  the  afternoon  when  we  took  refuge  in  the  brush-heap,  and  in  that 
spot  we  were  compelled  to  remain  far  into  the  night,  before  we  dared  venture  forth.  The 
night  was  one  of  terrible  anxiety  to  us.  Our  condition  was  perilous  in  the  extreme.  The 
whole  country  was  aroused  and  swarmed  with  soldiers  and  citizens.  Every  road  and  cross-  K 
road  was  watched  night  and  day  that  none  of  the  ‘ rascals  ’ might  escape.  We  could 
hear  the  deep  baying  of  bloodhounds,  as  they  scoured  through  woods  and  fields,  but 
luckily  for  us,  so  many  men  had  tramped  over  the  ground  in  the  vicinity  of  the  place  where 
we  jumped  from  the  train  that  the  dogs  could  not  work.  Still,  men  and  dogs  were  scour- 
ing the  woods  in  every  direction  and  it  was  unsafe  to  make  tracks.  To  add  still  more  to  the 
wretchedness  of  our  condition,  the  rain  was  almost  incessant.  The  place  of  our  conceal- 
ment was  a little  lower  than  the  ground  surrounding,  and  much  of  the  time  the  water  was  ^ 
three  or  four  inches  deep  where  we  lay.  This,  with  hunger  and  wet  clothing,  made  us 
extremely  uncomfortable. 

“ After  darkness  had  closed  in  for  some  time  we  were  compelled  to  come  out,  capture 
or  no  capture.  We  could  stand  it  no  longer.  On  crawling  out,  our  limbs  were  so  stiff 
and  sore  that  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  we  could  move,  and  it  was  only  by 
rubbing  and  working  them  vigorously  that  we  could  begin  to  use  them.  It  did  not  seem 
that  we  could  travel  very  far,  do  our  best,  with  such  stiffened  limbs.  After  looking  about, 
we  decided  to  take  an  opposite  course  from  that  which  our  comrades  had  taken,  thinking  \ 
there  would  be  less  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  hunters  in  that  direction.  We  desired  also 
to  get  into  the  mountains,  thinking  we  would  there  have  a better  chance  for  our  lives.  1 • 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives, 


19I 

suppose  at  this  time  we  were  less  than  twenty  miles  from  Chattanooga.  The  rain  still  fell 
in  torrents,  but  as  we  went  on  and  our  stiffened  limbs  got  limbered  up,  we  began  to  make 
good  time.  Our  desire  was,  as  soon  as  we  could  get  beyond  the  immediate  reach  of  our 
enemies,  to  bend  our  course  in  the  direction  of  the  Federal  lines.  But  we  must  by  all 
means  avoid  Chattanooga.  We  knew  that. 

“ We  traveled  as  rapidly  as  we  could  that  night,  and  about  daybreak  of  Monday 
morning  we  saw  an  old  log  hut  off  by  itself  some  distance  from  any  road.  We  wished 
very  much  to  get  shelter  from  the  cold  rain,  which  had  chilled  us  almost  to  the  point  of 
freezing.  We  found  the  hut  to  be  a sort  of  barn,  the  mow  of  which  was  full  of  bundles 
of  corn-fodder.  We  made  a hole  down  in  the  mow  and  covered  ourselves  out  of  sight 
and  went  to  sleep. 

“ About  one  o’clock  in  the  day,  as  we  slumbered,  we  were  awakened  by  somebody  in 
the  mow,  and  soon  found  out  that  two  women  were  looking  there  for  eggs.  One  of  them 
nearest  us  said:  ‘ Here  is  a hole  ; I wouldn't  wonder  if  there  is  a nest  in  here  and  at  the 
same  time  she  thrust  her  hand  down,  and,  as  bad  luck  would  have  it,  she  touched  one  of 
my  hands  and  started  back  with  a scream,  which  brought  up  the  other  woman,  and  they 
threw  off  the  bundles  and  there  we  were.  They  were  both  badly  frightened  and  ran  for 
the  house  with  all  their  might.  We  hastily  crawled  out  and  brushed  some  of  the  chaff  from 
our  clothes,  and  after  a moment’s  thought  concluded  that  the  best  thing  for  us  to  do  would 
be  to  go  to  the  house  and  apologize  to  them  and  in  addition  try  to  get  something  to  eat. 

“ Who  is  the  man  who  has  ever  in  his  life  vainly  appealed,  in  a becoming  and  respect- 
ful manner,  for  food,  when  hungry,  to  a woman?  If  man  excels  in  the  brutal  art  of  war 
and  killing  his  fellow-beings  with  successful  and  unsparing  hand,  or  being  himself  killed 
without  a murmur,  all  of  which  passes  for  bravery,  noble  woman  excels  in  those  higher 
and  more  Godlike  attributes  of  sympathy  for  the  distressed  and  charity  to  the  needy.  I 
believe  this  to  be  true  the  world  over,  where  woman  is  treated  as  the  equal  of  man. 

We  went  to  the  door,  bowed  politely  and  apologized  for  the  unintentional  scare  we 
had  caused  them.  We  then  told  them  we  had  been  in  pursuit  of  the  train- robbers,  and 
that  wet,  cold,  and  sleepy,  we  preferred  to  take  shelter  in  the  barn,  rather  than  disturb 
any  one  at  the  dead  hour  of  night.  This  story  seemed  to  be  satisfactory  to  them,  when 
we  told  them  we  were  hungry  and  asked  them  for  something  to  eat.  They  had  just  had 
their  dinner  and  the  table  still  stood  out  on  the  floor.  They  gave  us  a pitcher  of  butter- 
milk and  some  corn-bread,  all  they  had  unless  we  would  wait  for  them  to  cook  us  something 
which  we  did  not  wish  to  do.  We  paid  them  and  left  much  refreshed  and  strengthened  by 
our  food  and  rest.  We  started  away  on  a road,  but  as  soon  as  we  got  well  out  of  sight  of 
the  house  we  changed  our  course,  and  soon  after  concealed  ourselves  in  a dense  thicket  and 
there  awaited  the  shades  of  night. 

“We  had  not  been  in  the  thicket  long  before  we  saw  a squad  of  mounted  soldiers 
pass  down  the  road  we  had  previously  left.  From  their  loud  talk  and  their  manner 
of  march  we  concluded  they  were  a party  of  man-hunters.  Whether  they  had  gained 
any  information  at  the  house  where  we  had  been  we  could  not  tell,  but  we  laid 
down  and  kept  quiet.  When  night  came  we  shaped  our  course  as  near  as  we  could, 
without  following  any  road,  toward  the  Tennessee  River,  east  of  Chattanooga.  Dur- 
ing the  night  march  we  narrowly  missed  running  into  a guard  post  at  the  crossing  of  a 
road,  but  fortunately  heard  them  in  time.  We  went  around  them  and  on  our  way  undis- 
turbed. At  the  dawn  of  Tuesday  we  had  just  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains  and 
breathed  easier,  for  we  felt  more  secure  than  we  had  in  the  open  country.  We  concealed 
ourselves  in  a comfortable  place  and  witnessed  the  rising  of  the  sun.  Its  loveliness  and 
genial  warmth  never  before  cheered  me  so  much  as  then.  But  we  soon  fell  asleep  from 
weariness  and  did  not  wake  until  nearly  night.  We  had  a toilsome  night  march,  feeling 


192 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


our  way  over  rocks,  climbing  precipitous  places  and  at  other  times  descending  the  steep 
mountain  side  through  bushes  and  among  rocks. 

“ When  Wednesday  morning  came  we  found  that  we  were  still  surrounded  by  mountains 
on  all  sides,  with  no  signs  of  a habitation  or  a human  being  in  sight.  When  the  sun  got  well 
up  and  it  was  comfortably  warm,  we  lay  down  and  took  a nap.  The  pangs  of  hunger 
were,  by  this  time,  pressing  us  distressingly.  We  had  only  tasted  food  once  since 
the  raid  began,  and  that  was  the  scanty  meal  we  made  on  buttermilk  and  corn- 
bread,  Monday  afternoon.  In  this  starving  extremity  we  decided  that  there  was  no  great 
risk  run  in  this  lonely  region  if  we  should  travel  by  day,  and  after  so  deciding,  we  pushed 
on  with  our  utmost  energy,  as  a hungry  man  will  do  when  he  hopes  soon  to  find  food. 

“ We  were  guiding  our  course  by  the  sun,  and  during  the  afternoon  we  came  out  on  the 
brow  of  a high  mountain,  overlooking  a beautiful  little  valley,  thickly  dotted  with  houses. 
From  our  elevated  position  we  could  see  everything  the  valley  contained.  I thought  it  one 
of  the  loveliest  sights  I had  ever  seen — that  quiet,  peaceful  little  valley.  I looked  at  each 
house  and  wished  that  I could  go  into  even  the  humblest  and  ask  for  a piece  of  corn-bread. 
I pictured  in  my  hungry  imagination  the  good  things  to  eat  in  each  little  cottage,  and 
wondered  how  we  could  safely  manage  to  get  a morsel  of  their  stores  of  abundance  to 
satisfy  our  great  hunger.  The  more  I looked  at  that  little  valley  the  hungrier  I became. 

“ Near  the  foot  of  the  mountain  was  a small  log  house,  a little  separated  from  the  rest, 
and  we  knew  it  was  inhabited  from  the  smoke  that  curled  up  from  the  chimney. 
We  concluded  to  venture  down  and  apply  for  food.  A young  woman  appeared  at 
the  door,  and  we  told  her  that  we  had  been  lost  in  the  mountains  and  were  in  need  of 
something  to  eat.  She  invited  us  to  seats,  and  at  once  set  about  getting  us  a nteal.  We 
inquired  the  way  to  the  next  town,  the  name  of  which  I pretended  I could  not  just  speak, 
but  she  helped  me  out  by  mentioning  the  name — Cleveland.  We  learned  from  her  that 
the  town  was  only  a short  distance  away  and  that  there  were  no  soldiers  there.  This  was 
gratifying,  but  not  near  as  much  so  as  the  savory  odors  of  the  ham,  eggs  and  rye  coffee 
she  was  preparing  for  us.  We  could  hardly  wait  until  the  corn-bread  was  cooked,  and 
when  she  invited  us  to  take  seats  at  her  table,  we  soon  gave  her  satisfactory  evidence  that 
we  had  told  the  truth  about  being  hungry,  although  we  had  stretched  the  facts  a little 
about  being  lost.  We  paid  the  woman,  and,  without  delay,  took  leave. 

“ We  felt  very  much  the  need  of  a map,  and  after  a near  approach  to  the  little  town  of 
Cleveland,  and  a careful  survey  of  the  surroundings,  I left  Wood  in  a secluded  spot  to 
wait  while  I walked  boldly  in  and  went  to  a book-store  and  asked  for  a school  atlas.  They 
had  Mitchell’s  Geography  and  Atlas.  As  the  author  was  none  other  than  my  command- 
ing General,^  I had  no  reason  to  doubt  that  through  the  aid  of  his  map  I might  reach  his 
camp,  if  he  had  not  moved  too  far  since  I left  I had  to  buy  the  geography  too  if  I took 
the  atlas,  and  taking  the  books  under  my  arm,  like  some  countryman  who  lived  near  by  in 
the  mountains,  no  one  seemed  to  pay  any  attention  to  me.  We  were  soon  in  the  woods 
again,  when  we  tore  out  such  portions  of  the  atlas  as  we  needed  and  hid  the  rest  under  a log, 
after  which  we  took  our  course  and  pushed  on,  making  good  progress.  We  knew  that  we 
must,  by  this  time,  be  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Tennessee  River.  Our  plan  was  to  reach  the 
river  as  soon  as  possible  and  secure  a boat  of  some  kind,  after  which  we  would  drift  down 
the  river  to  Bridgeport,  Stevenson,  or  some  point  nearest  the  Federal  lines. 

“ Towards  evening  of  this  day  we  came  to  the  terminus  of  the  mountain  in  this  direc- 
tion, and  from  its  great  height  we  had  a commanding  view  of  the  valley  below,  which, 
though  beautiful  in  scenery,  was  sparsely  settled.  We  descended  the  mountain  and  felt 
our  way  cautiously  across  the  valley.  After  a time  we  came  to  a log  house.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  stir  about  the  premises,  and,  as  we  were  still  hungry,  we  concluded  to  apply  for 


^ A natural  mistake.  Mitchel’s  men  generally  believed  that  he  had  done  or  could  do  everything  ! 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives.  1 93 

something  more  to  eat.  We  had  been  so  hungry  that  we  had  not  dared  to  eat  all  our  ap- 
petites craved  at  the  last  place. 

“ There  was  no  man  to  be  seen  about  the  house,  but  the  woman,  who  was  a noble,  dig- 
nified-looking lady,  plainly  dressed,  told  us  to  be  seated.  I noticed  her  looking  at  us  with 
that  scrutinizing,  inquiring  gaze  of  a woman  in  doubt,  and  I could  read  her  thoughts  as 
plainly  as  if  she  had  spoken  them.  I knew  enough  about  woman,  too,  to  know  that 
whatever  her  first  impressions  were  they  would  be  unchangeable,  so  I sarid,  without  further 
hesitation,  ‘ We  are  in  need  of  something  to  eat.’  She  said  if  we  could  put  up  with  such 
fare  as  she  had  we  were  welcome.  We  told  her  that  we  were  quite  hungry  and  any  kind 
of  food  would  be  welcome.  As  she  proceeded  about  her  work,  I noticed  that  on  every 
opportunity  she  scrutinized  us  very  sharply,  and  I became  a little  uneasy. 

“ Presently  she  asked  us  if  we  were  traveling,  to  which  I replied  that  we  were  on  our 
way  to  Harrison,  which  was  a small  village  a few  miles  from  there.  I still  noticed  that 
she  was  eyeing  us  keenly  and  closely,  and  that  her  mind  was  not  at  rest  on  the  subject, 
when  suddenly  she  turned,  looked  us  squarely  in  the  face,  and  startled  us  by  saying  : 

“ ‘You  are  Union  men  ! You  can’t  fool  me  ! I know  a Union  man  by  his  look.  You 
need  not  deny  it,  nor  need  you  be  afraid  to  own  it,  either.  I am  a Union  woman,  and 
I am  not  afraid  to  own  it  to  anybody.  The  secessionists  around  here  don’t  like  me  a bit, 
for  I say  just  what  I think  of  them,  whether  they  like  it  or  not.  Further,  I know  that  you 
are  Union  men  trying  to  get  to  the  Union  army  and  you  need  not  go  to  the  trouble  to 
deny  it.  I will  do  anything  I can  to  help  you. 

“ We  stoutly  denied  any  such  intention,  and  told  her  that  we  had  been  soldiers  in  the 
Confederate  army.  But  that  did  no  good.  She  seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind.  So  we 
let  her  have  her  own  way.  Soon  after  her  husband  came  in.  He  was  rather  a fine-looking 
fellow,  with  a frank,  manly  face. 

When  supper  was  over  we  offered  this  loyal  woman  pay,  but  she  refused  to  take  our 
money,  saying  that  anything  she  could  do  for  a Union  man  she  would  do  with  a glad 
heart  and  willing  hands.  She  said  she  wished  the  Union  army  would  come — she  would 
give  them  everything  she  had. 

“As  we  took  our  leave,  she  told  her  husband  to  give  us  all  the  information  that  he 
could  as  to  our  route.  ‘ For,’  said  she  to  him,  “you  know  that  old  Snow,  with  his  company 
of  cavalry,  is  in  the  neighborhood,  and  he  will  be  upon  them  before  they  know  it.  He  is 
watching  every  nook  and  road  in  the  settlement  to  prevent  Union  men  from  getting  away 
from  the  rebel  conscription.’ 

“That  night  we  passed  in  the  woods,  and  continued  our  journey  Thursday  morning. 
The  valley  through  which  our  course  lay  was  thickly  inhabited,  and  we  had  observed 
the  greatest  possible  precaution,  as  we  supposed,  in  avoiding  ‘ Old  Snow’s  ’ cavalry. 
Our  surprise  was  all  the  greater,  when,  without  the  least  warning,  we  heard  the  stern 
command  : 

“ ‘ Halt  there,  you  ! Halt,  or  I will  blow  your  brains  out.’ 

“ A hasty  glance  around  failed  to  discover  any  safe  chance  of  retreat.  We  were  cap- 
tured, and  there  was  no  course  for  us  to  pursue  but  to  submit  to  the  unpleasant  inevitable. 

“ The  captain  seemed  to  be  a pompous  and,  according  to  his  own  account,  a blood- 
thirsty warrior,  for  he  said  it  was  not  his  custom  to  take  prisoners  but  to  hang  and  shoot 
all  who  fell  into  his  hands.  He  asked  us  a great  many  questions,  including,  of  course, 
our  place  of  residence  and  our  names,  all  of  which  we  answered  very  promptly,  although 
I will  not  say  truthfully.  We  told  him  we  lived  in  Harrison,  and  gave  him  some  names 
we  had  picked  up,  in  which  we  must  have  struck  him  just  right,  for  at  once  he  inquired 
after  the  ‘old  men,  our  fathers,’  whom  he  said  he  knew.  We  told  him  they  were  in 
excellent  health.  He  said  he  was  glad  to  h^ar  it,  for  he  was  well  acquainted  with  both  of 
them.  ‘ But,’  he  continued,  looking  at  us  very  sternly,  ‘ boys,  it’s  my  impression  that 

13 


194 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


you  are  running  away  from  the  conscription  and  you  deserve  to  be  shot  as  traitors  for 
wanting  to  join  the  Yankees.’  We  told  him  we  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  that. 
After  a moment’s  silence,  and  looking  at  us  steadily,  during  which  time,  no  doubt,  he 
was  mentally  debating  what  course  to  pursue,  he  said  : 

“ ‘ For  all  I know  you  may  belong  to  those  spies  and  bridge-burners,  and  if  I did  not 
know  your  folks  I would  send  you  to  Chattanooga  under  arrest  ; but  I will  tell  you  what  I 
will  do  : if  you  will  take  the  oath  and  promise  to  go  back  home  and  stay  until  I call  for 
you,  I will  allow  you  to  do  so.  I have  known  both  your  fathers  for  many  years  and 
have  great  respect  for  them.  They  have  always  been  true  men  to  the  South,  and  out  of 
consideration  for  them  I will  permit  you  to  go  back  on  the  conditions  I have  named.’ 

“Now,  there  may  be  those  with  a nice  discrimination  of  conscience  who  will  com 
demn  me  and  my  comrade  in  misfortune — who  has  long  since  ceased  his  struggle  with 
the  cold  charities  of  the  world — for  what  we  did.  But,  dear  comrade,  or  reader,  I pray 
you  before  you  lightly  pass  sentence  of  condemnation,  remember  that  ‘ circumstances 
alter  cases.’  The  professional  detective  or  spy  lives  a life  of  constant  deception.  He 
professes  to  be  what  he  is  not.  Whether  great  exigencies  of  a public  nature  justify  the 
practices  necessary  to  the  successful  pursuit  of  such  a profession,  may  be  a question  on 
which  moral  philosophers  can  well  disagree,  but  which  I am  not  competent  to  discuss. 

“ But  we  were  in  no  condition  for  hair-splitting  on  minor  points.  Conscience,  where 
the  moral  perceptions  are  to  be  consulted,  and  conscience,  where  a fellow’s  neck  is  at 
stake,  are  two  different  things.  We  were  not  professional  spies  or  detectives,  although, 
for  the  time  being  and  for  the  good  of  the  cause  in  which  we  enlisted,  we  were  to  all 
intents  and  purposes  practicing  the  arts  of  a spy.  Our  game  had  been  a desperate  one 
from  the  start.  The  players  on  the  other  side  were  as  desperate  as  we  were.  The  stakes 
on  our  part  were  to  save  our  necks  from  the  halter — from  the  death  of  felons. 

“ We  had  told  a plausible  story  to  this  officer,  by  which  we  had  so  completely  deceived 
him  that  he  proposed  to  let  us  go,  conditionally.  He  had  named  the  conditions,  and  for 
us  to  have  rejected  them  would  have  refuted  the  statements  we  had  just  made  to  him, 
namely,  that  we  were  Confederates.  Besides  this,  our  detention  a single  hour  might 
betray  the  falsity  of  our  story  about  our  living  at  Harrison.  We  were  liable  to  be 
exposed  any  moment  by  some  of  the  new  troopers  who  were  constantly  arriving.  We 
accordingly  signified  our  acceptance  of  his  conditions,  and  he  at  once  ordered  us  to  follow 
him,  he  leading  us  back  to  what  proved  to  be  the  house  of  a rank  old  rebel  and  within  a 
half  mile  of  the  house  we  had  left  the  evening  before.  Here  he  went  through  the  cere- 
mony of  what  he  termed  administering  the  oath,  after  which  he,  with  the  aid  of  the 
hot-tempered  old  woman  of  the  house,  gave  us  the  most  fiery  lecture  on  the  subject  of 
Southern  rights  and  Northern  wrongs  we  had  ever  heard.  After  the  captain  and  the  old 
woman  had  both  exhausted  their  vocabulary,  we  told  the  captain  that  we  hoped  it  would 
not  be  long  until  he  would  find  it  convenient  to  call  upon  us  for  our  services  in  the  cause. 
He  seemed  much  pleased  at  the  favorable  effect  his  eloquent  harangue  had  worked  upon 
us,  and  as  we  hastily  shook  hands  with  him  preparatory  to  leaving,  he  handed  us  back  our 
revolvers,  which  he  had  previously  taken  from  us. 

“ This  we  considered  a lucky  escape,  and  we  started  off  in  fine  spirits  after  the  depress- 
ing uncertainty  occasioned  by  this  capture.  It  was  not  long  until  we  were  again  in  the 
mountains,  where  we  soon  after  found  a place  of  safety,  and  rested  and  slept  till 
near  night.  After  we  awoke  we  talked  over  the  situation.  What  we  desired  was  to  get 
across  the  wide,  thickly-settled  valley  to  the  river  and  find  a boat.  How  to  do  it  and 
evade  capture  was  what  concerned  us  most  just  now.  If,  by  a streak  of  bad  luck,  we 
should  again  fall  into  the  hands  of  old  Snow  or  his  crowd,  we  would  fare  hard,  for  we 
had  promised  him  to  take  the  back  track.  In  this  state  of  perplexity  we  decided  to  trust 
ourselves  in  the  hands  of  the  man  and  woman  who  had  treated  us  so  kindly  and  professed 


TJie  Roll  of  the  Captives. 


195 


SO  much  devotion  to  the  Union  cause.  We  knew,  however,  that  if  we  ventured  near  this 
house  that  we  must  do  it  with  ^reat  caution,  otherwise  we  might  be  discovered,  and  thus 
not  only  be  captured,  but  compromise  our  good,  kind  friends. 

‘ It  was,  therefore,  late  on  Thursday  evening  when,  having  left  Wood  a few  paces 
from  the  house  to  keep  a look-out,  I went  noiselessly  to  the  door  and  knocked.  The 
family  had  retired  and  the  house  was  still  as  death.  I knocked  again  and  again,  but 
finally  heard  the  woman  tell  her  husband  there  was  some  one  at  the  door.  Soon  the  man 
opened  the  door  and  seemed  to  know  me  at  the  first  glance  or  by  the  sound  of  my  voice. 
He  spoke  to  me  kindly  and  invited  me  in.  While  he  was  speaking  to  me  I observed  from 
some  indications,  I could  not  distinctly  see,  that  his  wife  stood  near  by  to  kill  me  instantly 
in  case  any  sign  of  foul  play  had  been  noticed.  Those  were  times  in  Tennessee  and 
Northern  Georgia,  and  other  places  in  the  South,  when  shocking  tragedies  took  place. 
Men  were  hunted  and  shot  down  in  their  own  door-yards  and  homes,  for  their  loyalty  to 
the  old  flag,  and  these  persecuted  people  were  generally  ready  for  the  worst  and  defended 
themselves  to  the  death.  In  this  defense  the  women  often  took  a ready  hand.  The 
woman  I am  now  speaking  of  would  have  been  a dangerous  one  for  any  rebel  to  have 
attacked,  if  she  had  been  given  the  least  warning  or  had  half  a chance.  It  need  then  be 
no  matter  of  surprise  that  she  held  a cocked  rifle  on  me  as  I stood  near  the  door,  ready, 
on  the  least  suspicious  movement  on  my  part,  to  drop  me  in  my  tracks. 

“ I told  the  man  I would  like  to  speak  a few  words  with  him  privately.  He  stepped  a 
few  paces  from  the  door  so  that  we  W’ere  sure  no  person  was  in  hearing  distance.  I then, 
in  a low  tone  of  voice,  asked  him  if  he  could,  of  his  own  free,  voluntary  will,  assist  a 
Union  man  in  distress,  if  he  had  the  opportunity.  I then  paused  and  watched  him 
intently,  and  at  once  noticed  that  he  was  embarrassed.  He  acted  like  a man  who  sus- 
pected some  trick — as  if  he  thought  I had  been  sent  to  entrap  him  for  the  purpose  of 
betraying  his  loyalty.  I was  assured  by  his  actions  ; for  had  he  been  a rebel  and  had 
wished  to  entrap  me,  he  would  have  unhesitatingly  answered,  ‘Yes,’  and  encouraged  me 
to  reveal  myself.  I relieved  his  embarrassment  by  saying,  ‘ There  is  no  trick  in  this  ; I 
am  a Union  man  in  deep  trouble,  the  nature  of  which  I am  not  just  at  liberty  to  mention 
now.  I need  a friend  and  assistance.’  He  then  answered  and  said  he  would  render  any 
assistance  in  his  power,  not  only  to  us  but  for  the  Union  cause. 

“ Wood  had  by  this  time  come  to  where  we  were  and  I told  the  stranger  to  hold  up  his 
hand  and  be  sworn,  which  he  did,  and  I administered  to  him  the  following  oath  : 

“ ‘You  do  most  solemnly  swear  in  our  presence  and  before  Almighty  God,  that  you 
will  not  betray  us  to  our  enemies,  but  that  you  will  do  all  that  lies  in  your  power  to 
secrete,  aid,  protect  and  defend  us.’ 

“To  all  of  which  he  answered,  ‘ I will.’ 

“ We  then  shook  hands,  and  after  making  sure  that  no  ear  could  hear  us,  I revealed  to 
him  a part  of  our  story  and  who  we  were.  He  was  a brave  man  and  a true  man,  and 
hearing  our  story  seemed  to  increase  his  interest  and  friendship  in  our  behalf.  We 
watched  this  man  closely  to  observe  if  he  tpok  such  precautions  as  a man  would  take  who 
honestly  desired  our  safety,  and  were  gratified  to  see  that  he  did.  About  the  first  thing, 
he  told  us  that  we  must  not  come  near,  nor  be  seen  about  his  house.  He  told  us  to 
follow  him,  and  he  led  the  way  to  an  old  abandoned  house,  where  he  had  first  lived  when 
he  located  on  the  farm,  and  which  stood  in  a secluded  spot,  remote  from  the  road.  In 
the  centre  of  the  old  floor  was  a trap-door,  which  opened  into  a hole  about  four  feet 
square,  which,  during  the  occupancy  of  the  house,  had  been  used  as  a sort  of  cellar. 
Here  we  took  up  our  quarters.  He  then  went  to  the  house  and  brought  out  a bundle  of 
quilts  for  us  to  lie  on.  He  next  told  us  to  avoid  talking  loud,  and  keep  out  of  sight,  in 
which  case  we  would  be  perfectly  safe  until  he  ctjI  I g^t  an  opportunity  to  pilot  us  safely 
out.  He  told  us  that  no  human  being  would  b'  apprised  of  our  whereabouts,  except  his 


196 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


wife,  who  was  our  friend,  and  would  do  as  much  for  our  safety  as  himself.  He  then  left 
us  and  went  to  the  house,  first  telling  us  that  he  would  visit  us  in  the  morning,  and  bring 
us  rations.  We  fixed  ourselves  very  comfortably  with  the  quilts,  and,  although  our  bed- 
room would  not  admit  of  our  stretching  our  limbs  out  full  length,  we  doubled  up  and 
enjoyed  a very  comfortable  night’s  rest,  something  we  had  not  done  before  for  a long 
time. 

“The  next  morning,  Friday,  we  heard  our  friend  not  far  off  calling  and  feeding  his 
pigs,  and  not  long  after  he  quietly  lifted  off  a board  over  the  little  cellar,  when  we  put 
out  our  heads,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  took  a sniff  of  the  morning  air.  He  carried  a 
small  basket  which  seemed  to  contain  corn,  which  he  passed  down  to  us,  but  we  found 
our  breakfast  underneath  the  corn,  and  after  taking  it  out’  we  replaced  the  corn  and  gave 
him  back  the  basket.  He  spoke  a few  encouraging  words  to  us,  telling  us  -we  must  not 
get  restive  but  bide  our  time,  when  he  replaced  the  board,  scattered  some  straw  over  the 
old  floor  and  left  us. 

“ Some  time  after,  when  we  were  talking  in  a low  tone  of  voice,  we  heard  footsteps 
on  the  ground  and  the  board  was  lifted  and  some  one  spoke  to  us  in  a friendly  voice. 
We  put  out  our  heads,  and  there  stood  before  us,  with  the  basket  of  corn,  not  our  sworn 
friend  of  the  night  before,  but  his  wife,  the  true  Union  woman. 

“ ‘ I knew,’  said  she,  ‘ that  you  were  Union  men  all  the  time,  and  I am  still  ready  to 
make  good  my  promise,  to  not  only  do  all  I can  for  you,  but  for  the  Union  cause.’  She 
told  us  that  her  husband  had  gone  to  assist  a neighbor  about  some  work  and  left  us  in 
her  charge,  and  that  she  had  brought  our  dinner.  She  spoke  a few  words  of  encourage- 
ment to  us,  and  praised  our  daring  effort,  as  she  termed  it,  to  steal  the  railroad  away 
from  the  rebels,  at  the  same  time  expressing  her  sorrow  that  we  had  not  succeeded,  and 
that  the  Union  army  could  not  before  that  time  have  taken  possession  of  the  country  and 
driven  the  rebels  out.  By  this  time  we  had  taken  our  rations  from  the  basket  and 
replaced  the  corn,  and  she  replaced  the  board  over  us  and  scattered  straw  about,  as  her 
husband  had  done,  and  left  us. 

“ In  this  way  we  remained  secreted  for  several  days.  This  delay  was  for  several 
reasons.  In  the  first  place,  we  were  nearly  disabled  with  sore  feet  from  our  night 
marches  in  the  mountains.  In  the  next  place,  we  knew  that  the  longer  the  time  that 
elapsed  after  the  raid,  the  less  vigilance  would  be  observed  by  the  rebels,  who  would 
tire  of  the  pursuit.  Then,  most  important  of  all,  we  had  to  wait  till  our  friends  could 
find  a suitable  person  to  conduct  us  out  to  the  river  safely,  for  the  nights  were,  at  that 
time,  almost  as  light  as  day. 

‘ ‘ A trusty  guide  was  found  in  the  person  of  the  brother  of  the  loyal  woman  whose 
guests  we  were.  This  young  man,  who  knew  the  country  well,  conducted  us  by  a cir- 
cuitous night-march  to  a creek,  perhaps  McLarimore’s,  a tributary  of  the  Tennessee. 

Our  great  trouble  had  been,  in  this  mountainous  country,  to  keep  the  right  course. 
Even  if  we  knew  the  direction,  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  follow  it  by  night  travel  on 
account  of  the  unevenness  of  the  country.  It  was  this  that  made  us  so  anxious  to  reach 
the  river,  which  would  afford  us  a sure  means  of  night  travel,  and  guide  us  to  a point 
near  the  P'ederal  army.  Unfortunately,  when  we  reached  the  creek  the  boat  was  on  the 
opposite  side. 

“ Here  our  guide  took  his  leave  of  us,  and  we  set  about  finding  a way  to  secure  the 
boat.  I first  thought  to  swim  the  creek,  which  was  very  high  and  running  driftwood. 
After  considering  the  matter,  however,  I adopted  a better  plan.  Mark  secreted  himself, 
near  the  bank  below,  where  I could  easily  find  him.  I then  went  to  an  open  space  on  the 
bank  and  halloed.  It  was  now  daylight,  and  a man  soon  answered.  I told  him  I wished 
to  cross  over,  and  he  soon  came  and  took  me  to  the  other  side.  He  was  unable  to  change 
a five-dollar  Confederate  note,  and  I told  him  I expected  to  cross  back  next  morning, 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives'. 


197 


and  would  try  to  have  the  change  for  him,  which  he  said  would  do.  I then  walked 
briskly  on  the  road  leading  to  Harrison,  until  I came  to  the  first  turn  in  the  road,  when  I 
went  into  the  woods  and  hid  myself  until  dark.  After  dark  I went  back  and  cautiously 
approached  the  place  where  the  boat  was  tied.  After  satisfying  myself  that  the  ‘ coast 
was  all  clear,’  I hastily  paddled  over  to  the  other  side,  took  Mark  aboard,  and  we  were 
soon  floating  toward  the  Tennessee.  After  encountering  some  troublesome  blockades  of 
driftwood,  and  a rebel  steamboat  or  patrol  gunboat,  we  arrived  safely  in  the  Tennessee 
River. 

“ This  patrol  boat  gave  us  some  concern.  She  lay  in  the  mouth  of  the  creek  with  her 
‘ nose  ’ to  the  shore,  while  her  stern  lay  not  far  from  the  opposite  bank  of  the  narrow 
stream.  When  we  first  saw  her  lights,  we  supposed  it  to  be  a cabin  near  the  banks  of 
the  creek,  and  did  not  discover  our  mistake  until  we  were  right  up  to  her,  for  the  night 
was  pitch  dark,  and  it  was  raining.  These  latter  circumstances  enabled  us,  by  lying 
down,  and  quietly  steering  our  boat  close  under  the  stern  of  the  steam  craft,  to  glide  by 
unnoticed.  I thought  if  we  only  had  our  crowd  of  train  boys  along,  and  Wilson  Brown 
to  man  the  engine,  we  might  easily  have  taken  possession  of  the  craft,  and  given  the 
rebels  another  big  scare,  and,  perhaps,  all  of  us  escape.  But  it  might  not  have  been  any 
easier  to  steal  a steamboat  and  get  away  with  it  than  a railroad  train.  We  drifted  on, 
and  in  a few  moments  after  we  were  happy  voyagers  in  the  Tennessee  River,  going  down 
stream  with  the  swift  current.”  [The  river  was  now  in  spring  flood,  very  high  and  swift. — W. 
P.]  “This  night  was  one  of  the  worst  I remember.  Those  comrades  who  have  campaigned 
in  East  Tennessee,  will  not  need  be  told  how  disagreeable  a cold  rain  storm  is  there.  The 
incessant  rain  was  accompanied  by  a high  wind,  blinding  our  eyes  much  of  the  time, 
while  the  dark,  rapid,  seething  waters  carried  our  little  boat  on  with  maddening  fury. 
Sometimes  we  would  find  ourselves  going  round  and  round  in  a great  eddy  or  swirl,  next 
striking  the  point  of  some  island,  or  nearly  knocked  from  the  boat  by  some  low-hanging 
tree  from  a short  turn  in  the  river  bank,  or  getting  a startling  thump  from  some  on-rush- 
ing  log  or  drifting  tree.  We  were  in  constant  apprehension,  for  in  the  black  darkness 
we  could  not  see  whither  we  were  going,  and  so  benumbed  were  we  with  wet  and  cold, 
that  we  had  but  little  control  of  the  boat,  and  our  ears  were  our  only  guide  for  safety. 

“ When  the  night  was  pretty  well  spent,  we  began  to  have  a little  anxiety  as  to  where 
daylight  would  catch  us.  We  knew  we  had  been  making  good  time,  and  that  Chatta- 
nooga lay  not  far  ahead.  We  also  knew  that  it  would  not  do  for  us  to  show  our- 
selves in  that  locality  in  daylight.  We  now  began  to  keep  a look-out  for  a safe 
landing  place.  After  several  ineffectual  attempts  we  found  that  to  land  along  the  steep 
banks,  in  our  benumbed  condition,  was  both  difficult  and  dangerous.  We  soon  discovered 
that  we  were  passing  what  seemed  to  be  a small  island.  We  hugged  close  along  the 
shore  until  we  reached  the  lower  end,  and  a place  where  the  rapid  current  did  not  strike 
our  boat,  and  by  the  aid  of  our  paddles  and  the  overhanging  tree-branches,  we  effected  a 
safe  landing  in  the  dark,  and  drew  our  boat  up  on  the  bank.  We  took  shelter  under  a 
great  forked  tree,  and  wrung  the  water  from  our  coats. 

“ The  storm  by  this  time  had  changed  to  sleet  and  hail,  and  it  did  seem  to  me  that  we 
must  perish  with  cold.  We  beat  our  benumbed  hands  and  arms  about  our  bodies  to  try 
to  keep  up  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  but  we  were  chilled  to  the  bone.  I have  never, 
not  even  in  the  coldest  winter  of  the  North,  experienced  so  much  suffering  from  cold  as  I 
did  on  that  terrible  night.  Poor  Wood,  who  afterwards  died  of  consumption,  seemed  to 
suffer  even  more  than  I did.  Never  did  I see  the  light  of  day  approach  with  more  grati- 
tude than  on  that  dismal  island  at  the  end  of  that  night  of  terror.  The  sun  brought  no 
warmth,  but  its  welcome  light  revealed  to  us  a cabin  near  the  shore,  from  whose  stone 
chimney  the  smoke  was  curling  up.  We  at  once  decided  to  go  there  and  warm  ourselves, 


198  Daring  and  Suffering, 

even  if  we  had  to  fight  for  the  privilege,  for  we  might  as  well  perish  fighting  as  with  the 
cold. 

“We  at  once  launched  our  boat  and  crossed  from  the  island  to  the  shore.  As  we 
landed  on  the  bank  to  go  up  to  the  house,  Wood,  whose  teeth  were  chattering,  and  who 
looked  both  drowned  and  frozen,  said  to  me  : ‘ Alf,  you  will  have  to  make  up  some  lie 

to  tell  them  ; they  will  ask  us  a thousand  questions.’ 

“ I said,  ‘ I don’t  know  what  I can  tell  them  ; I am  too  cold  to  speak  the  truth, 
though.’  'But  I told  Mark  to  say  but  little,  so  that  we  might  not  “cross”  one  another 
in  our  story. 

“We  were  admitted  to  the  cabin,  and,  as  I stood  before  the  great  fire-place,  I noticed  the 
family  viewing  our  bedraggled,  drowned,  forlorn  appearance  with  some  curiosity,  especi- 
ally the  man  of  the  house.  After  I got  so  that  I could  talk  freely,  I inquired  if  there 
were  any  boats  about  there.  He  said  he  knew  of  none  except  his  own,  which  the  Con- 
federates allowed  him  to  have  to  cross  over  to  the  island  to  his  work.  He  then  asked  me 
if  we  were  looking  for  boats.  I told  him  we  were,  and  that  we  had  orders  to  destroy  all 
we  found,  with  the  exception  of  a few  owned  and  in  charge  of  the  right  kind  of  men.  I 
told  him  the  object,  of  course,  was  to  prevent  Union  men  from  running  away  from  the 
conscription. 

“ ‘I  thought  that  was  your  business,’  said  he.  ‘There  was  a lot  of  soldiers  along 
here  a few  days  ago  and  destroyed  every  boat  they  could  find.’ 

“ He  asked  if  we  stayed  at  Chattanooga.  I told  him  that  our  company  was  there.  I 
further  said  : ‘ Then  you  don’t  know  of  any  boats  along  here,  except  your  own  ? ’ He 

said  he  did  not.  After  some  further  talk,  I asked  him  if  we  could  get  some  breakfast 
with  them.  He  said  we  could.  I then  told  him  we  were  in  the  condition  of  most 
soldiers — that  we  had  no  money,  but  that  I did  not  think  it  any  dishonor  for  a man  in  the 
service  of  his  country  to  ask  for  food.  He  said  it  was  perfectly  right. 

“We  then  took  off  our  coats  and  hung  them  up  to  dry  while  we  were  at  breakfast. 
After  we  had  become  thoroughly  warmed  we  took  our  leave,  telling  the  man  to  keep  an 
eye  out  for  any  boats  that  might  possibly  be  lying  about  loose  in  the  vicinity. 

“ We  now  resumed  our  boat  voyage,  and  did  not  spend  much  time  hunting  for  strange 
boats,  but  availed  ourselves  of  the  first  good  opportunity  to  land  and  secrete  ourselves. 
Our  hiding  place  was  in  a thicket  in  a field,  near  enough  where  our  boat  was  tied  so  that 
we  could  watch  it.  The  storm  had  subsided,  and  during  the  afternoon  the  sun  shone  out 
bright  and  warm  and  a high  wind  prevailed. 

“ Sometime  before  night,  a man  and  a boy  passed  across  the  field  not  far  from  us,  and 
the  boy  soon  got  his  eyes  on  our  canoe  and  cried  out,  ‘ There’s  a canoe,  pap  ! ’ They 
went  down  to  it,  and,  from  their  actions,  we  saw  that  they  were  going  to  take  it  away. 
I spoke  to  Wood  and  told  him  that  it  would  not  do  to  allow  them  to  do  so,  and  we 
walked  out  of  the  thicket  on  the  further  side  from  them,  and  leisurely  came  down  to 
where  they  were,  when  I said  : 

“ ‘ Hallo,  there  ! what  are  you  doing  with  that  boat?’ 

“ ‘ I thought  it  had  drifted  here,  and  I was  going  to  take  care  of  it,’  was  the  reply. 

“ ‘ That  is  a government  boat,’  said  I.  ‘ We  tied  it  up  here  awhile  ago  on  account 
of  the  high  wind.’ 

“ I then  repeated  the  boat  story  which  we  had  before  told  at  our  last  stopping-place. 
This  seemed  to  be  an  entirely  satisfactory  explanation  to  him. 

I then  said  to  Mark  : ‘ Do  you  think  the  wind  will  admit  of  our  proceeding  on  our 

way  to  Chattanooga  ? ’ 

‘ ‘ The  man  spoke  up  before  Mark  could  answer,  and  said  : ‘ Men,  I would  not  advise 

you  to  venture  on  the  river  now.  It  is  not  safe.  You  had  better  go  down  to  the  house, 
and  wait  till  the  wind  falls.’ 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives. 


199 


“ This  proposition  suited  us  well  enough,  under  the  circumstances,  so  we  accepted  his 
invitation  and  accompanied  him  to  his  cabin.  We  found  his  wife  a very  talkative  old 
lady.  She  sympathized  heart  and  soul,  she  said,  with  soldiers,  for  she  had  a son  in  the 
army,  who  sent  word  home  that  he  had  a pretty  hard  time  of  it. 

“ Night  came,  but  the  wind  still  blew  a gale.  They  invited  us  to  stay  all  night  with 
them,  but  we  told  them  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should  be  back  to  camp 
by  the  next  day,  if  possible.  We  learned  that  we  were  only  five  miles  above  Chatta- 
nooga. 

“ About  midnight  the  wind  went  down,  and  we  pushed  out  in  our  little  boat,  and  long 
before  daylight  we  were  quietly  drifting  past  Chattanooga,  that  most  “ ticklish  " point. 
When  we  had  fairly  passed,  we  felt  that  the  greatest  part  of  our  task  was  over.  We  began 
to  imagine  ourselves  almost  back  again  among  our  old  comrades  of  the  21st.  We 
felt  encouraged  and  jubilant.  We  soon  found  out,  however,  that  it  was  not  all 


Wood  and  Wilson  going  down  the  Tennessee  River. 


emooth  sailing  yet.  [They  were  now,  after  a week’s  travel,  within  a half  mile  of  the 
place  I had  reached  the  same  day  we  abandoned  the  train.  But  the  difference  in  their 
favor  was  immense  : They  had  a boat  and  knew  where  they  were. — W.  P.] 

“ Some  ten  or  fifteen  miles  below  the  city  the  river  runs  through  a deep  gorge,  and 
narrows  down  to  only  a small  proportion  of  its  former  width.  The  mountains  rise 
abruptly  from  the  water  in  frowning  grandeur,  while  great  rocks,  from  dizzy  heights, 
project  out  over  the  rushing,  foaming  torrent  below.  To  increase  the  troubles  of  navi- 
gation here,  the  river  makes  a sharp  turn  to  the  left,  after  a long,  straight  stretch,  during 
which  time  the  water  gathers  great  velocity  of  motion,  and  suddenly  dashes  against  the 
wall  of  rock  at  the  elbow,  recoils,  and  forms  a great,  rapid,  foaming  eddy,  after  which  it 
rushes  on  down  the  gorge  in  mad  fury,  as  if  trying  to  get  revenge  for  the  check  it  has 
just  received.  We  perceived,  even  in  the  darkness,  that  there  was  danger  ahead.  The 
great  roar  and  noise  caused  by  the  dashing  of  the  angry  waters  against  the  rocks  warned 
tts.  We  hugged  the  left  bank  with  our  little  boat  as  closely  as  possible.  As  we  passed 


200 


Daring  and  Suffering. 

the  angry  whirlpool,  into  which  we  seemed  to  be  drifting,  our  boat  was  struck  a tre^ 
mendous  blow  by  a floating  log.  We  thought  we  were  dashed  to  pieces.  The  blow 
hoisted  us  away,  however,  several  yards  to  the  left,  and  we  went  flying  down  the  gorge 
like  the  wind.  We  pulled  at  our  paddles  with  might  and  main  to  keep  the  water  from 
swamping  our  boat,  which  sank  pretty  low  in  the  current  and  was  now  going  at  railroad 
speed.  We  soon  reached  smoother  water,  and  again  felt  ourselves  safe. 

“ It  was  now  getting  light,  and,  as  we  drifted  on,  we  saw  a man  on  shore  motioning 
with  all  his  might  for  us  to  approach  him.  As  there  seemed  to  be  something  unusual 
about  his  actions,  we  pulled  in  a little,  when  he  hailed  us  and  said  if  we  went  on  as  we 
were  then  going,  vre  would  be  drowned  in  spite  of  fate.  He  said,  ‘ You  are  strangers  in 
these  parts,  ain’t  you?’  We  told  him  we  had  never  been  dov/n  the  river  before,  although 
quite  familiar  with  the  country.  He  then  said,  ‘ Strangers,  whatever  you  do,  don’t  try 
to  run  down  through  the  “ suck.”  I have  lived  here  all  my  life,  and  have  known  men  who 
were  well  acquainted  with  the  river  to  be  drowned  there.  It  is  much  worse  than  the 
place  you  have  just  passed.’ 

“We  tried  to  persuade  him  to  go  with  us  and  pilot  us  down,  but  he  said  he  was  not 
well.  At  last,  however,  with  much  urging  and  the  promise  of  three  dollars,  he  consented 
to  go.  We  rowed  to  the  shore,  and,  after  providing  himself  with  an  extra  paddle,  he 
came  aboard  and  took  charge  of  our  craft,  which  we  ran  as  close  to  the  left  shore  as 
possible.  The  water  ran  with  such  great  velocity  and  force,  that  we  found  it  almost 
impossible  to  control  the  boat,  although  we  all  had  paddles  and  were  pulling  as  if  for  life. 
Our  new  pilot  understood  his  business  well  and  knew  how  to  man  a boat. 

“ At  the  place  where  we  apprehended  most  danger,  the  river  runs  through  a narrow 
gorge.  The  whole  volume  of  water,  thus  circumscribed,  draws  right  to  the  centre  of  the 
channel.  After  a ride  which  I never  wish  to  repeat,  we  passed  in  safety,  with  no  further 
mishap  than  getting  our  boat  nearly  full  of  water,  which  we  soon  bailed  out.  Our  pilot 
now  gave  us  careful  directions  as  to  the  course  we  should  take  in  the  river  below,  after 
which  we  dismissed  him,  first  paying  him  three  dollars,  which  we  felt  had  been  a good 
investment,  as  we  would  have  doubtless  been  drowned  but  for  the  accidental  fact  of 
Uieeting  this  man.  Though  it  had  been  our  practice  to  travel  only  in  the  night,  yet  we 
had  been  compelled,  through  the  difficulty  of  navigating  this  part  of  the  river,  to  travel  in 
daylight,  which  was  imprudent,  as  we  were  constantly  reminded. 

“ I may  state  just  here  a fact,  which  is  well  known  to  all  men  who  in  time  of  war  have 
tried  to  escape  from  prison.  The  most  critical  part  of  a journey  is  that  which  lies 
immediately  between  the  two  contending  armies.  At  such  places,  between  the  two 
hostile  lines,  patrols  are  constantly  moving  about.  Outposts  are  established  on  all  im- 
portant roads,  while  vidette  and  picket  posts,  in  comrnand  of  the  most  active  and  vigilant 
officers,  are  constantly  on  the  alert  for  spies,  scouts,  or  prowling  bands  of  cavalrymen 
from  the  enemy’s  camp.  Every  stray  man  is  picked  up  and  sent  to  the  officer  of  the 
guard,  who  either  sends  him  to  the  guard-house,  or  to  the  General  at  headquarters,  and  if 
the  unfortunate  fellow  does  not  tell  a pretty  straight  story,  or  if  there  is  anything  sus- 
picious about  his  appearance,  he  is  put  under  strict  guard,  and,  perhaps,  ordered  tried  by 
a drum-head  court-martial,  charged  with  being  a spy.  It  is  the  worst  place  in  the  world 
to  be  caught  fooling  around — this  ground  between  two  hostile  armies  in  camp.  A man 
is  almost  certain  to  be  captured,  unless  he  is  well  posted,  and  if  captured,  he  must  give 
a very  strict  account  of  himself. 

“ As  before  stated,  we  found  it  unsafe  to  travel  in  day-time,  and,  shortly  after  dismiss- 
ing our  pilot,  we  spied  a squad  of  rebel  cavalry  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river.  Luckily, 
the  river  was  pretty  wide  at  that  place,  and  we  chanced  to  be  well  to  the  other  side.  They 
yelled  to  us  to  come  ashore,  but  we  pretended  not  to  hear  them,  and  acted  as  if  we  were 
intending  to  land  leisurely  on  the  far  side.  We  were  too  far  away  for  convenient  musket 


The  Roll  of  the  Captives. 


201 


range,  and  did  not  fear  them  much,  but  the  circumstance  caused  us  to  think  it  best  to 
land  a few  miles  below,  and  secrete  both  ourselves  and  the  boat. 

“ During  the  voyage  of  the  following  night,  or  rather  just  before  daylight,  we  passed 
the  Bridgeport  railroad  crossing.  We  could  see  the  guards  on  the  bridge,  but  did  not 
know  whether  they  were  rebels  or  Yankees,  so  in  this  uncertainty  we  let  our  boat  drift 
quietly  with  the  current,  and  passed  by  unnoticed.  We  supposed  confidently  that 
General  Mitchel  had  occupied  Bridgeport.  So  after  we  had  passed  below  the  bridge, 
out  of  sight,  we  landed,  and  Mark  remained  with  the  boat  while  I stole  up  to  the  camp 
to  find  out  what  kind  of  soldiers  were  there.  It  did  not  take  me  long,  however,  to 
discover  that  they  wore  butternut  uniforms,  and  I hurried  back  to  the  canoe,  Mark’s 
disappointment  knew  no  bounds.  I could  scarcely  convince  him  that  I told  the  truth. 

“ About  sunrise  we  stopped  and  hid  our  canoe,  and  feeling  somewhat  hungry  and  also 
anxious  to  learn  something  about  the  Federals,  we  concluded  to  skulk  off  a short  distance 
and  see  what  we  could  find.  It  was  not  long  until  we  found  a cabin,  where  we  got  break- 
fast and  learned  that  the  Yankees  were  at  Stevenson,  or  a short  distance  the  other  side. 
Soon  after  leaving  this  cabin  we  met  a squad  of  soldiers  in  full  retreat.  They  told  us 
that  we  had  better  be  ‘ lighting  out  ; ’ that  the  roads  and  woods  were  ‘ alive  with 
Yankee  cavalry.  They  are  in  Stevenson  and  pushing  on  this  way  in  heavy  force.’  We 
expressed  some  little  apprehension,  but  went  on  a little  further,  when  we  met  more  rebel 
militia,  who  told  the  same  story.  It  seemed  as  if  there  was  a regular  stampede  among 
them. 

“ We  now  became  convinced  that  if  we  could  get  safely  to  Stevenson  we  would  be  all 
right.  So  we  went  back  to  our  canoe  and  rowed  down  the  river  again,  until  we  thought 
we  were  about  opposite  the  town,  which  is  about  four  miles  north  from  the  river.  Then 
we  tied  up  the  canoe  and  struck  out  through  the  woods  for  the  town.  Just  before  reaching 
the  place,  we  had  to  cross  a creek,  after  which  we  ascended  a very  long,  steep  hill. 

“ When  we  reached  the  top  of  this  hill,  we  were  somewhat  surprised  to  find  ourselves 
right  in  the  town,  but  not  half  so  much  astonished  as  we  were  to  find  no  blue-coats  there, 
but  the  streets  swarming  with  rebel  soldiers.  We  had  been  woefully  deceived  by  the 
stories  of  the  frightened  fugitives  we  had  met  in  the  forenoon,  and  had  unwarily  entrapped 
ourselves.”  [It  was  only  for  a very  short  time  that  the  Federals  were  absent  from  this 
point,  which  was  vital  to  Mitchel.  The  high  water  had  destroyed  a bridge,  and  until  it  was 
repaired  he  had  withdrawn  his  forces. — W.  P.] 

“ Wood  proposed  that  we  should  start  and  run,  but  I saw  that  course  would  not  answer, 
so  we  determined  to  put  on  a bold  front,  and  take  our  chances,  though  we  knew  we  ran 
great  risk.  We  met  and  spoke  with  a number  of  soldiers.  Some  of  the  officers  noticed 
us  carelessly,  while  others  paid  no  attention  to  us  as  we  passed  them.  We  went  into  a 
store  and  bought  some  tobacco,  and  inquired  for  some  other  trifling  things,  and  then  start- 
ed off  as  unconcernedly  as  if  we  were  a couple  of  country  fellows,  accustomed  to  visiting 
the  town.  We  had  gone  some  little  distance,  when  we  were  met  by  an  officer,  who 
stopped  us  and  said  that  he  would  have  to  inquire  our  business  there,  and  who  we  were. 
These  were  pointed  questions,  but  we  knew  it  would  be  necessary  to  meet  them=  We 
told  him  who  we  were  and  all  about  it,  and  he  appeared  well  satisfied  with  our  answers 
and  was  about  to  dismiss  us,  when,  unfortunately  for  us,  another  man,  I think  a citizen, 
came  up,  and,  pointing  at  me,  said  : 

That  is  one  of  the  rascals  that  was  here  last  night.  He  rode  through  the  town,  cut- 
ting all  the  flourishes  he  knew  how.  I know  him.  He  dare  not  deny  it,  either.' 

“ In  explanation  of  this  man’s  singular,  unexpected,  and  to  us  fatal  accusation,  I will 
say  that  I afterwards  learned  that  a squad  of  daring  troopers  from  the  Fourth  Ohio 
Cavalry,  had,  on  the  previous  night,  made  a dash  into  the  place.  This  explained  the  stories 
told  us  by  the  flying  fugitives  who  had,  by  their  fright,  beguiled  us  into  the  rebel  camp. 


202 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


“ As  soon  as  we  were  thus  detained,  I directed  all  my  attention  to  destroying  the  map 
in  my  possession,  by  tearing  it  in  pieces  in  my  pocket,  dropping  portions  of  it  whenever 
opportunity  offered,  and  chewing  up  much  of  it,  until  I finally  succeeded,  without  de- 
tection, in  disposing  of  the  whole  of  it.  Had  this  map  been  discovered  in  my  possession 
it  would  have  been  strong  evidence  against  us 

“ This  man’s  story  ended  all  hope  of  our  getting  away,  and  we  were  prisoners  a second 
time.  No  sooner  was  attention  once  directed  to  us  than  we  were  surrounded,  and  scores 
of  fellows  saw  in  our  appearance  something  suspicious.  We  told  the  most  plausible  story 
we  could  invent,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  In  spite  of  our  protestations  of  innocence,  we  were 
bundled  off  under  guard,  put  on  a hand-car  and  run  up  to  Bridgeport,  where  the  com- 
manding office  was  stationed. 

“We  reached  Bridgeport  soon  after  dark,  and  there  we  were  again  stripped  and 
searched.  Boots,  hats,  coats,  socks  and  every  under-garment  underwent  the  strictest 
scrutiny.  They  could  find  nothing,  and  were  about  on  a stand  as  to  what  judgment  to 
pass  on  our  cases,  when  fate  again  turned  against  us  by  interposing  a circumstance  which 
ended  all  hope  in  our  favor.  An  excited  fellow,  who  came  and  stuck  his  head  in  among 
the  gaping  crowd,  who  were  staring  at  us,  declared,  in  a loud  voice,  that  we  belonged  to 
Andrews’s  spies  and  train-thieves. 

“ All  eyes  were  turned  on  him  instantly,  my  own  among  them.  Of  course,  he  felt 
bound  to  back  up  the  assertion,  although  I believe  he  lied,  at  least  such  were  my  feelings. 
The  spirit  of  resentment  rose  up  within  me,  until  I could  have  killed  him  without  com- 
punction if  I had  possessed  the  power,  for  in  the  next  breath  he  said,  ‘ I know  those 
fellows  ! I saw  them  on  the  train  ! ’ ” 

It  is  possible  that  the  man  was  right  in  regard  to  Wilson,  for,  as  fire- 
man, he  was  on  the  engine  and  was  seen  by  a great  many  people  ; and  he 
wore  just  the  same  clothing  as  then. 

The  Southern  Confederacy^  of  April  26th,  thus  alludes  to  this  latest 
prize 

“We  learn  that  two  more  of  the  bridge-burning  party  were  captured  not  far  from 
Chattanooga,  and  brought  in  there  two  days  ago,  and  that  one  of  the  party  is  still  at  large, 
or  has  escaped  to  the  Federal  lines,  having  never  been  caught.” 

In  the  latter  statement  they  were  mistaken,  as  they  now  had  every  one! 


CHAPTER  XVII 


FIRST  PRISON  EXPERIENCES. 

The  little  Major  who  had  acted  as  spokesman  on  my  first  arrest,  now 
escorted  me  to  jail,  accompanied  by  the  whole  crowd  that  had 
gathered  around  the  hotel.  He  demanded  my  pocket-book — 
which  he  never  returned — and  the  county  jailer  in  whose  hands  I next 
came,  finished  the  work  of  emptying  my  pockets.  The  jail,  in  front  of 
which  this  robbery  took  place,  is  a little,  mean-looking,  brick  building 
standing  on  a side  street.  The  two  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  were  for 
the  jailer,  and  the  two  above  for  prisoners.  I was  taken  up  an  exceedingly 


The  Iron  Cage  at  Lafayette,  Ga. 


narrow  stairway,  and,  turning  to  the  right,  entered  a fair-sized  room,  with 
bars  across  the  windows.  But  the  noticeable  feature  of  the  room  was  a 
large  iron  cage,  nine  by  twelve  feet,  which  stood  in  the  middle,  leaving  but 
a moderate  passageway  between  the  cage  and  the  walls.  The  cage  was 
formed  of  broad  iron  slats  crossing  at  right  angles  at  intervals  of  perhaps  six 
inches.  It  had  the  same  kind  of  slats  for  a roof  some  feet  below  the  ceil- 
ing of  the  room,  and  a solid  iron  floor,  a little  above  the  room  floor.  It 
had  also  a very  heavy  iron  door,  which  the  jailor  unlocked,  and  I was 
bidden  enter.  One  man  was  in  it — a Union  man,  as  he  said,  though  I 


204 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


was  rather  disposed  to  believe  him  a detective,  put  there  for  the  purpose 
of  finding  out  as  much  as  he  could  from  me.  My  reflections  when  I 
stepped  in,  and  the  jailor  secured  the  heavy  lock  to  the  massive  iron  bars 
across  the  door,  could  not  have  been  more  gloomy  if  the  inscription 
Dante  saw  over  the  gate  of  hell  had  been  written  over  this  door: 

‘All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here.” 

Never  before  had  I been  locked  up  as  a prisoner,' and  now  it  was  no 
trivial  matter — a few  days  or  weeks.  Very  slender  hope,  indeed,  was 
before  me.  I was  there  as  a criminal,  and  too  well  did  I realize  the  char- 
acter of  the  Southern  people  to  believe  they  would  be  very  fastidious 
about  proof.  A high  value  was  never  set  on  the  life  of  a stranger,  and 
now  with  the  fierce  war  fever,  and  the  madness  caused  by  our  raid,  added 
to  the  fear  of  a Federal  advance,  the  situation  was  most  desperate. 

In  that  hour  my  most  distressing  thought  was  of  friends  at  home,  and 
especially  of  mother.  I thought  of  their  sorrow  when  they  should  hear 
of  my  ignominious  fate — if  they  ever  heard  ! The  thought  of  dying  un- 
known,— of  simply  dropping  out  of  life  without  any  one  ever  being  able 
to  tell  what  had  become  of  me, — seemed  terrible.  That  all  my  young 
hopes  and  fond  dreams  of  being  useful  should  perish,  as  I then  had  every 
reason  to  believe,  on  a Southern  scaffold,  was  almost  unbearable.  But 
for  a moment  only  did  these  thoughts  sweep  over  me;  the  next  they  were 
rejected  as  not  only  useless,  but  tending  to  unnerve  me,  and  prevent  that 
readiness  to  take  advantage  of  any  possible  chance  for  escape  that  might 
offer.  At  least  here  was  rest  and  quiet,  and  the  experiences  of  the  past 
day  rerldered  these  most  enjoyable.  No  more  questions  to  answer,  no 
straining  to  the  last  limits  of  physical  endurance,  but  shelter,  warmth,  and 
rest ! To  these  was  soon  added  another  great  comfort,  for  a fairly  good 
supper  was  brought.  My  companion  said  he  was  not  hungry,  which  suited 
exactly,  as  I ate  the  allowance  of  both  without  difficulty,  and  then  began 
to  feel  sleepy.  My  cage-mate  wanted  to  ask  me  some  questions;  but  I 
had  been  questioned  sufficiently,  and  gave  him  very  short  answers.  He 
had  plenty  of  blankets,  and  wrapping  myself  in  them,  I soon  fell  into  a 
deep  sleep — profound  and  dreamless — such  as  only  extreme  fatigue  can 
produce. 

I did  not  wake  until  the  yellow  sunlight  was  streaming  through  the 
barred  window  the  next  morning.  The  air  was  wonderfully  pure  and  fresh 
after  the  long  rain.  At  first  I had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  where  I was. 
The  bed  was  drier  and  the  blankets  warmer  than  in  camp.  The  iron  floor 
was  unfelt.  For  a little  time  I lay  in  the  delicious  languor  of  perfect 
comfort,  looking  up  at  the  lattice-work  of  iron  without  knowing  what  it 
meant.  Gradually  a sense  of  my  situation  stole  over  me;  yet  when  all 
the  terrible  memories  of  the  past  two  days  came  trooping  back,  despair 


First  Prison  Ex'heriences, 

did  not  come  with  them.  There  might  yet  be  the  opportunity  of  es^ 
if  a little  time  was  given.  Or  the  enemy  might,  by  the  fear  of  retaliation, 
be  forced  to  spare  us.  Before  leaving  camp  I had  read  of  some  rebels 
captured  in  Federal  uniform  while  trying  to  burn  bridges  in  Missouri — an 
offense  very  similar  to  our  own  ! Morgan  with  his  men  had  also  assumed 
the  Federal  uniform,  and  thus  managed  to  reach  Gallatin,  Tennessee,  and 
destroy  valuable  stores.^  Some  of  his  men  had  been  captured  and  were 
now  in  the  hands  of  our  forces.  There  was  little  doubt  that  if  these  were 
held  for  us,  life  for  life,  the  rebels  would  be  slow  in  beginning  the  work  of 
hanging.  There  was  also  a large  number  of  irregular  privateers  and 
others,  who,  according  to  all  the  laws  of  civilized  war,  were  as  much  ex- 
posed to  summary  punishment  as  we.  Indeed,  all  the  rebels  were,  under 
a strict  construction  of  the  laws  of  nations,  punishable  with  death  for 
treason  and  disloyalty,  and  at  this  time  it  looked  as  if  the  doom  of  the 
evil  Confederacy  could  not  be  far  distant.  I did  not  find  it  hard,  from 
my  outlook  of  deep  personal  interest,  to  hope  that  something  might  be 
done  on  our  behalf.  I well  knew  that  being  inside  the  enemy’s  lines  in 
citizen’s  dress,  gave  them  the  right  to  put  us  to  death  by  a sentence  that 
would  have  at  least  the  color  of  military  law;  but  no  military  law  required 
the  exertion  of  that  power.  If  they  could  use  us  to  better  advantage  by 
holding  us  as  hostages  for  their  friends  in  similar  condition,  or  exchanging 
us  for  them,  all  military  usages  and  all  considerations  of  humanity  would 
be  satisfied.  While,  then,  the  great  probability  was  that  the  enemy  in  the 
heat  of  passion  and  vengeance  would  put  me  to  death  either  by  mob-law  or 
by  a drum-head  court-martial,  yet  if  they  could  in  any  way  be  induced  to 
let  some  little  time  pass,  and  cool  reason  to  get  the  upper  hand,  there  was 
a chance  that  I might  either  be  able  to  break  away,  or  be  saved  by  the 
power  of  threatened  retaliation. 

But  that  there  might  be  the  slightest  chance  for  interference  on 
our  behalf,  our  character  and  position  must  be  clearly  known.  If  we 
died  even  under  circumstances  of  the  greatest  cruelty  while  claiming  to 
be  Southern  citizens,  there  could  be  no  help.  It  would  be  an  effectual 
answer,  when  our  government  asked  why  a certain  soldier  was  put  to 
death,  to  say,  “ We  did  not  know  he  was  a soldier;  he  gave  a false  name 
and  was  put  to  death  as  one  of  our  own  offending  citizens.”  Very  quaintly 
did  my  prison  companion  put  this  thought.  He  said,  “ If  you  are  inno- 
cent of  being  one  of  the  bridge -burners,  as  they  call  you,  they  will  be  sure 
to  hang  you.  But  if  you  are  one,  and  should  claim  to  be  a soldier,  your 
government  will  not  let  so  many  of  you  perish  without  making  some  effort 
to  save  you  ! ” Slowly  I came  to  the  conviction  that  I would  be  better  off 
in  my  own  name  and  character. 


* See  Morgan’s  own  report,  March  19,  iS6a,  War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  I., 
page  31. 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


had  time  enough  for  deliberation.  During  all  the  morning  hours 
throngs  of  both  ladies  and  gentlemen  came  in  to  see  the  caged  Yankee.^' 
The  place  was  well  adapted  for  the  purpose,  and  I was  viewed  much  as 
spectators  look  at  a bear  in  his  den.  A guard  was  employed  and  the  out- 
side doors  left  open.  Visitors  came  in  and  passed  around  the  cage  and 
out  again — a continual  procession.  They  made  a great  many  odd  re- 
marks, criticising  me  without  any  regard  to  my  opinions  or  feelings. 
Sometimes  compliments  were  thrown  in;  but  I heard  a good  many  things 
about  myself  that  I had  not  suspected  before.  The  ladies  were  particu- 
larly free  in  these  comments,  which  sounded  strangely  enough  to  “the 
beast  in  the  cage/’  Questions  were  asked,  but  as  the  guard  would  not 
allow  any  one  to  stop  for  a regular  conversation,  I did  not  care  to  answer.  I 
was  too  busy  trying  to  arrange  plans  that  might  lead  to  my  getting  out  of 
the  position  in  which  I was  placed.  I knew  that  there  was  no  regularly 
constituted  military  authority  at  Lafayette,  and  that  if  I should  be  sum- 
marily dealt  with  while  there,  it  would  only  be  the  act  of  an  irresponsible 
mob;  and  in  that  lonely  region  such  a thing  was  by  no  means  unlikely. 
I now  felt  that  Chattanooga,  the  headquarters  of  that  district,  was  the 
best  place  to  be.  Besides,  it  was  likely  that  I might  there  meet  the  four 
of  whose  capture  I had  heard;  and  while  I was  sorry  that  they  had  been 
taken,  yet,  since  they  were  in  the  toils,  I longed  for  their  companionship. 
I thought  that  by  v/orking  on  the  curiosity  of  my  captors  I might  induce 
them  to  send  me  away. 

Accordingly  I told  the  guard,  who  carried  word  to  the  jailer,  that  I 
would  like  to  see  the  vigilance  committee.  They  were  informed,  and  in  a 
little  time  I was  taken  before  them.  It  is  probable  that  I would  have 
been  sent  for  at  any  rate  to  ask  me  some  more  questions  of  the  same 
nature  as  those  of  the  day  before.  They  had  their  lawyers  and  clerk 
ready.  But  I cut  the  whole  matter  short  by  saying: 

Gentlemen,  the  statements  I gave  you  yesterday  were  intended  to 
deceive.  I will  now  tell  you  the  truth.  ” 

The  clerk  got  his  pen  ready  to  take  down  the  information,  and  there 
was  a general  hush  of  expectation,  while  the  president,  said,  “Go  on, 
sir;  go  on.” 

“ I am  ready,”  I continued,  “ to  give  you  my  true  name,  and  to  tell 
you  why  I came  into  your  country.” 

“ Just  what  we  want  to  know,  sir.  Go  on,”  said  they. 

“But,”  I returned,  “I  will  make  no  statement  whatever  till  taken* 
before  the  regular  military  authority  of  this  department.  ” 

This  took  them  completely  by  surprise,  and  they  used  every  threat  and 
argument  in  their  power  to  make  me  change  my  resolution.  But  I told 
them  that  it  was  a purely  military  matter,  and  that  if  they  were  loyal  to 
the  Confederacy,  they  would  send  me  as  soon  as  possible  to  the  com- 


First  Prison  Experiences, 


207 


manding  General.  This  looked  so  reasonable,  and  the  possibility  that 
they  might  lose  some  valuable  information  by  an  opposite  course  was  so 
great,  that  they  decided  to  send  me  that  very  day. 

It  was  a journey  of  twenty-seven  miles,  and  required  that  we  should 
start  promptly  after  dinner.  It  would  take  me  over  the  same  ground  in 
part  that  I had  traversed  during  that  long  and  terrible  night  of  wandering. 
We  had  left  the  cars  near  Ringgold,  and  I had  gone  nearly  twenty  miles 
westward;  then  many  miles  east,  and  back  again;  then  south  beyond 
Lafayette,  a distance  of  at  least  twenty-five  more;  so  in  that  twenty-four 
hours  I must  have  gone,  including  circles  and  meanderings,  much  more 
than  fifty  miles, — enough  if  put  in  a straight  line  in  the  right  direction  to 
have  carried  me  safe  within  our  own  lines;  while  here  I was  still  in  the 
enemy’s  power  ! 

I was  remanded  to  jail  to  wait  for  the  preparation  of  a suitable  escort. 
After  dinner,  a dozen  men  called,  and  conducted  me  to  the  public  square 
in  front  of  the  court-house,  where  a carriage  was  in  waiting  in  which  I 
was  placed;  and  then  commenced  the  process  of  tying  and  chaining 

A great  mob  had  gathered,  which  was  increasing  every  minute,  and 
becoming  very  excited  and  angry.  They  did  not  look  upon  my  removal 
to  Chattanooga  with  any  favor,  seeming  to  consider  me  their  own  especial 
victim.  They  declared  that  I could  be  hanged  as  easily  and  well  there 
as  at  Chattanooga,  and  obviously  did  not  wish  their  village  robbed  of  a 
tragedy  or  a sensation.  They  questioned  me  in  loud  and  imperious  tones, 
demanding  why  I came  down  there  to  fight  them,  what  I meant  to  do 
with  the  train — for  though  I had  not  yet  admitted  being  among  its  captors, 
they  took  that  for  granted — and  added  every  possible  word  of  insult. 

My  position  was  serious.  The  committee  in  whose  hands  I was  had 
no  more  real  authority  than  those  who  were  hooting  and  howling  around. 
I could  see  that  they  wished  to  protect  me,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
carry  out  their  own  intention;  but  I did  not  know  how  far  they  would  be  able. 
As  the  mob  grew  more  violent,  I tried  to  help  the  committee.  Anything  like 
the  manifestation  of  fear  would  greatly  increase  my  danger,  but  I knew 
that  the  typical  Southerner  admires  coolness  and  courage  above  everything 
else;  so  acting  on  Shakespeare’s  advice  to  “assume  a virtue  if  you  have 
it  not,  I selected  some  of  those  who  seemed  most  prominent  and 
addressed  them.  They  answered  with  curses;  but  even  this  seemed  to 
relieve  their  feelings.  I spoke  very  quietly,  and  watching  a chance  to  get 
in  a joke  about  the  manner  in  which  I was  being  tied,  and  affecting  to 
treat  the  whole  matter  as  hardly  serious,  I soon  had  some  of  the  laughers 
on  my  side;  and  then  I was  less  afraid,  and  could  play  my  part  still  better. 
Before  long,  I had  the  gratification  of  hearing  one  say  to  another,  “ Pity 
he  is  a Yankee,  for  he  seems  to  be  a good  fellow.  ” The  insults  and 
oaths  decreased,  and  something  of  the  qualified  good  feeling  of  the  day 


2o8 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


before  returned.  I wish  to  put  it  on  record  that  never  during  the  whole 
time  I was  a prisoner  did  I have  five  minutes  conversation  with  any 
Southern  man,  or  men,  without  all  manifestation  of  angry  feeling  being 
suppressed 

I had  now  been  secured  in  such  a manner  as  literally  “ to  make  assur- 
ance doubly  sure.  ''  The  mode  of  fastening  was  exceedingly  curious, 
and  gives  a clue  to  the  feelings  of  dread  with  which  the  enemy  had  been 
inspired  by  our  raid.  One  end  of  a heavy  chain,  eight  or  nine  feet  in 


Chained  in  a Carriage. 


length,  was  put  around  my  neck  and  fastened  with  a padlock;  the  other 
end  was  carried  back  of,  and  under  the  carriage  seat  on  which  I was  sitting, 
and  locked  to  one  foot  in  the  same  manner;  the  chain  being  extended  to 
its  full  length  while  I was  seated,  thus  rendering  it  impossible  for  me  to 
rise.  My  hands  were  locked  in  hand-cuffs;  my  elbows  were  closely  pinioned 
to  my  side  by  ropes;  and  to  crown  all,  I was  firmly  bound  to  the  carriage 
seat  ? Then  my  conductor,  the  little  major,  took  his  seat  at  my  side,  and, 
— Oh  ! spirit  of  chivalry, — two  men  followed  on  horseback  armed  with  shot- 
guns ! With  all  these  precautions,  I ought  to  have  felt  safe,  but  I did 


First  Prison  Experiences,  209 

not ! All  preparations  being  completed,  I took  leave  of  the  village,  to  see 
it  no  more  for  twenty-four  years. 

As  we  journeyed,  the  sky^  which  after  the  morning  burst  of  sunlight 
had  been  overcast,  suddenly  cleared.  The  first  dawnings  of  spring 
smiled  on  the  hills  around  and  I felt  my  spirit  grow  more  light  as  I 
breathed  the  fresh  air,  and  listened  to  the  singing  of  the  birds. 

My  companions  were  talkative,  and  though  I could  not  quite  forget 
the  indignity  they  were  putting  upon  me  in  thus  carrying  me  chained  as  a 
criminal,  yet  I knew  it  would  be  unavailing  to  indulge  a surly  and  vindic- 
tive disposition,  and  therefore  talked  as  fast  and  as  lively  as  they  could. 

The  guards  themselves  did  not  subject  me  to  any  insult,  and  even 
endeavored  to  prove  that  the  extraordinary  manner  in  which  I was  secured 
was  a compliment  to  me.  I could  not  so  view  it,  and  would  willingly  have 
excused  the  tying  and  the  compliment  together  ! The  most  that  I had  to 
complain  of  in  their  behavior  was  their  conduct  when  we  passed  a house; 
and  I should  not  perhaps  complain  of  that,  for  it  is  hardly  in  human  nature 
to  miss  making  the  most  of  a great  curiosity.  They  would  call  out, 

“Hallo!  we’ve  got  a live  Yankee  here:^’  then  men,  women  and 
children  would  rush  to  the  door  and  stare  as  if  they  saw  some  monster, 
calling  in  turn: 

“ Whar  did  you  ketch  him?  Goin’  to  hang  him  when  you  get  him  to 
Chattanooga  ? ” and  similar  questions  without  end. 

This  was  only  slightly  annoying  at  first,  but  its  perpetual  recurrence 
grew  terribly  wearisome,  and  was  not  without  its  effect  in  making  me  think 
that  perhaps  they  would  hang  me.  In  fact,  my  expectation  of  escaping 
was  not  very  bright;  but  I considered  it  my  duty,  for  the  sake  of  others 
as  well  as  of  myself,  to  keep  hope  alive,  that  I might  be  ready  to  take 
advantage  of  any  favoring  circumstance.  The  roads  were  muddy  and 
stony,  and  our  progress  slow;  but  though  the  carriage  in  places  jolted 
terribly  over  the  frequent  ledges  of  rock,  I was  in  no  danger  of  being 
thrown  out;  while  the  carriage  remained  right  side  up,  I was  sure  to 
be  in  it ! yet  this  did  not  render  the  ride  easier.  The  afternoon  wore 
slowly  away,  as  we  passed  amid  grand  and  beautiful  scenery  that  under 
other  circumstances  would  have  been  greatly  admired;  but  now  my 
thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

It  was  not  so  much  death  I dreaded — a.  soldier  must  get  control  over 
that  fear; — but  to  be  hanged  ! Death  amid  the  smoke  and  excitement 
and  glory  of  battle  was  not  half  so  terrible  as  in  the  calmness  and 
chill  horror  of  the  scaffold  1 and  sadder  yet  to  think  of  the  loved  ones  at 
home  who  would  count  the  weary  months  as  they  went  by,  and  wish  and 
long  for  my  return  till  hope  became  torturing  suspense,  and  suspense 
deepened  into  despair  ! These  thoughts  were  almost  too  much  for  my 
fortitude  but  I knew  no  resource  except  patience  and  endurance  There 

14 


210 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


was  another  help,  but  I had  not  then  learned  its  power,  and  did  not  know 
how  to  seek  it.  Yet  I am  disposed  to  believe  that  I was  led  nearer 
Heavenly  help  that  very  evening. 

The  sun  went  down  and  night  came  on — clear,  calm,  and  with  won- 
derful depth  of  blue  One  by  one  the  stars  came  out — my  old  friends  ! 
I gazed  upon  their  beauty  with  new  feelings,  as  I wondered  whether  a few 
more  days  might  not  bring  me  a dweller  beyond  their  shining;  and  as  I 
thought  of  the  blessed  rest  on  the  eternal  shore,  where  war,  and  hate,  and 
chains  are  never  known,  my  thoughts  took  a new  direction.  I had  no 
earthly  hope  or  support;  why  not  seek  that  which  had  been  promised  to 
all  the  weary  and  heavy-laden  ? If  I must  die,  why  not  prepare  to  enter 
a better  world  ? The  cost  was  as  nothing  to  me  now;  and  what  were  all 
the  vanities  of  the  world,  were  I even  free  and  able  to  enjoy  them,  in 
comparison  with  the  deep  peace  of  God,  something  of  which  I felt  even 
now  stealing  into  my  soul.  Country  and  home  ! these  were  the  objects  of 
my  fondest  affections;  why  not  add  another  still  dearer:  the  heavenly 
home  with  the  universal  Father  there  ! I had  never  tried  in  earnest  to 
be  religious  by  yielding  my  heart  and  life  to  God  in  the  way  of  His 
appointment;  though  like  so  many  others,  I had  intended  at  some  time 
to  do  so;  but  the  great  controversies  in  which  the  nation’s  life  was 
involved,  and  the  bustle  and  excitement  of  camp,  had  nearly  driven  all 
such  thoughts  from  my  head.  The  idea  of  country  and  of  God  were  now 
brought  close  together  as  never  before.  I felt,  with  a kind  of  half  pity 
for  myself;  that  I was  sure  to  die,  while  God  would  deliver  the  country; 
and  people  would  praise  those  who  had  died  for  their  nation’s  life — that 
would  be  little;  but  if  God  said  it  was  well  dene,  that  would  be  every- 
thing. Why  not  leave  it  all  to  him — life,  death,  and  the  future  ! He 
who  made  the  earth  and  the  stars  could  make  no  mistake,  and  could  not 
be  defeated  by  the  malice  of  wicked  men  ! The  grand  form  of  Lookout 
Mountain  arose  on  my  left;  the  stars  spanned  the  whole  valley;  and  Chatta- 
nooga— which  might  mean  a scaffold, — was  but  a short  distance  ahead. 
Whether  an  influence  came  from  these  things,  or  from  the  stillness  and 
quiet  so  congenial  to  exhausted  nature  after  the  excitement  of  the  past 
week,  or  from  a still  higher  source,  the  theologians  may  determine — I only 
know  that  the  memory  of  that  twilight,  when  I was  being  carried,  chained, 
to  an  unknown  fate,  is  one  of  the  sweetest  of  my  life.  The  babbling  guards 
had  subsided  into  silence — perhaps  also  feeling  something  of  the  soothing 
influence  of  the  eventide;  while  lofty  thoughts  of  man’s  destiny  filled  my 
heart,  and  I felt  nerved  for  any  fate.  Yet  this  was  but  a transient  experi- 
ence. Rude  shocks  of  another  character  swept  it  away;  and  great  suffer- 
ing and  bitter  anguish  of  spirit  were  yet  to  be  passed  before  I could 
confidently  claim  the  comforts  and  joys  of  our  holy  religion. 

We  reached  Chattanooga  before  it  was  quite  dark  and  at  once  drove  to 


First  Prison  Experiences, 


2II 


the  Crutchfield  House,  the  headquarters  of  Gen.  Leadbetter,  then  com- 
manding. While  the  guards  ascended  to  inform  him  of  our  arrival,  I 
remained  in  the  carriage.  As  soon  as  we  had  entered  the  town  the  word 
had  been  given: 

“ We’ve  got  a live  Yankee;  one  of  them  that  took  the  train  the  other 
day. 

I was  not  the  first  one  of  the  party  captured,  as  the  reader  has  alrea  ly 
learned,  but  was  the  first  brought  to  Chattanooga;  and  the  curiosity  to 
see  me  was  on  that  account  the  more  intense.  The  people  ran  together 
from  every  quarter,  and  in  a few  minutes  the  street  in  front  of  the  hotel 
was  completely  blocked.  They  behaved  like  a mob,  jeering  and  hooting, 
calling  me  by  every  opprobrious  name  and  wanting  to  know  why  I came 
down  there  to  burn  their  property,  murder  them  and  their  children,  and 
set  their  negroes  free  ! I could  think  of  no  reason  to  give  for  these  ter- 
rible things  that  would  bear  statement  just  then  ! I was  greatly- amused 
(afterward  !)  by  the  variety  of  their  criticisms  on  my  appearance.  One 
would  say,  “ It  is  a pity  so  young  and  clever-looking  a man  should  be  caught 
in  such  a scrape.^’  Another,  of  a more  penetrating  cast,  “could  tell  that 
he  was  a rogue  by  his  face;  probably  came  out  of  prison  in  his  own  coun- 
try,” Another  was  surprised  that  I could  hold  up  my  head  and  look 
around  on  honest  men — arguing  that  such  brazen  effrontery  was  proof  of 
enormous  depravity.  I did  not  feel  called  upon  to  volunteer  any  opinion 
on  the  subject. 

There  was  one  man  I noticed  in  particular.  He  was  tall  and  venerable 
looking;  had  gray  hair  and  gray  beard,  a magnificent  forehead,  and  was 
altogether  commanding  and  intellectual.  He  was  treated  with  great  de- 
ference and  seemed  to  me  like  some  college  professor  or  Doctor  of  Di- 
vinity. As  he  pressed  his  way  through  the  crowd,  I thought: 

“Surely  I will  receive  some  sympathy  from  that  venerable-looking 
man.” 

His  first  question  was  promising.  Said  he: 

How  old  are  you  ? 

I answered,  “Twenty-two,  sir.’^ 

Gradually  his  lip  wreathed  itself  into  a curl  of  unutterable  scorn  as  he 
slowly  enunciated: 

“ Poor  young  fool  ! and  I suppose  you  were  a school-teacher  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind  in  your  own  land  ! and  you  thought  you  would  come  down 
here  and  rob  us  and  burn  our  houses  and  murder  us,  did  you  ? Now  let 
me  give  you  a little  advice;  if  you  ever  get  home  again  (but  you  never 
will!),  do  try  for  God’s  sake  and  have  a little  better  sense  and  stay  there.” 

Then  he  turned  contemptuously  on  his  heel  and  strode  away,  while  the 
rabble  around  rewarded  him  with  a cheer.  I never  learned  who  he  was. 
After  that  I looked  no  more  for  sympathy  in  that  crowd  ! 


212 


Daring  and  Suffer  mg. 


My  conductors  were  a good  while  gone,  engaged,  as  I supposed,  in  let- 
ting Gen.  Leadbetter  know  the  kind  of  a person  I was,  and  how  I came 
into  their  possession.  No  doubt  they^also  told  him  what  I had  promised  < 
to  reveal  on  my  arrival.  I had  not  forgotten  this  myself,  and  had  gone 
very  carefully  over  the  ground  and  decided  where  the  line  must  be  drawn 
between  truth  and  fiction — how  little  of  the  former  would  suffice  to  estab- 
lish my  standing  as  a Union  soldier,  and  how  77iuch  of  the  latter  could  be 
administered  with  probable  profit.  In  spite  of  the  good  thoughts  I had 
entertained  an  hour  before,  there  was  no  qualm  of  conscience  as  to  telling 
him — the  enemy  of  my  country,  and  in  rebellion  against  lawful  authority  ! 

— anything  that  might  injure  him  or  his  cause,  or  contribute  to  my  own 
interest.  I knew  that  commanders  are  always  careful  to  get  all  the  mili- 
tary information  they  can  out  of  prisoners;  and  I would  give  him  abun- 
dance, if  he  proved  disposed  to  accept  my  kind  of  information. 

Gen’.  Leadbetter  was  a hard  drinker,  and  a northern  man;  but  as  is 
not  unfrequently  the  case,  he  was  more  extreme  in  his  views  than  the 
natives  with  whom  he  had  cast  his  lot.  He  afterwards  acquired  a most 
unenviable  reputation  for  cowardice  and  cruelty  combined.  Such  was  the 
man  who  was  to  have  the  direct  control  over  myself  and  comrades  at  this 
time.  Had  we  fully  known  him,  we  might  indeed  have  despaired. 

As  I entered  the  room  I saw  at  a glance  that  he  had  been  drinking, 
though  not  so  much  as  to  render  him  incapable  of  business.  He  treated  ^ 
me  with  a kind  of  pretentious  politeness,  causing  me  to  be  seated  in  front 
of  him,  and  then  said  that  he  had  learned  that  I had  a communication  to 
make  to  him  which  I had  refused  to  give  those  people  out  at  Lafayette, 
in  which  I was  perfectly  right.  Now  I might  tell  him  everything,  and 
would  find  it  to  my  advantage. 

As  he  spoke  I was  carefully  studying  him,  and  trying  to  estimate  the 
amount  of  deceit  that  might  be  profitably  employed.  I was  encouraged;  ^ 
for  he  seemed  like  one  who  would  deceive  himself,  and  think  all  the  while 
that  he  was  showing  wonderful  penetration.  I told  him  that  I was  a 
United  States  soldier,  giving  my  name  and  regiment;  declaring  that  I was 
detailed  without  my  consent,  that  I was  ignorant  of  where  I was  going,  or 
the  work  I was  to  perform,  which  I only  learned  as  fast  as  I was  to  execute 
it.  He  listened  very  attentively,  and  then  asked  who  the  engineer  was  ^ 
who  had  run  our  train.  I refused  to  tell.  The  Confederates  were  exceed- 
ingly anxious  to  find  the  name  of  this  person,  imagining  that  he  was 
probably  some  high  official  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  railroad.  Any 
member  of  the  expedition  could  at  any  time  have  purchased  the  promise 
of  his  own  life  by  telling  who  our  engineer  was — that  is,  if  he  had  been 
believed.  Then  Leadbetter  wanted  to  know  the  purpose  of  our  expedi-  ^ 
tion.  I professed  to  be  ignorant  so  far  as  any  direct  knowledge  was 
concerned,  but  he  still  questioned  and  I gave  him  my  conjectures  as  facts. 


First  Prison  Experiences^ 


213 


All  that  I told  him  was  what  any  person  of  judgment  would  have  sup- 
posed— just  what  the  Southern  editors  did  conjecture.  He  acted  as  if 
receiving  very  valuable  information,  but  expressed  a doubt  whether 
Mitchel  had  men  enough  to  follow  up  such  an  enterprise;  saying  that, 
according  to  his  information  from  his  own  spies,  Mitchel  had  not  more 
than  ten  thousand  men.  It  struck  me  as  ludicrous  that  a general  should 
be  discussing  his  information  thus  with  a prisoner;  but  I was  determined 


to  mislead  him  if  I could,  for  his  estimates  were  singularly  correct.  So 
I said,  that  this  must  refer  only  to  the  first  division  of  Mitchebs  force,  and 
did  not  take  into  account  the  troops  that  were  ready  to  come  to  him  by 
rail  from  Nashville  and  the  North.  He  said  this  was  perfectly  true,  and 
wanted  to  know  how  large  this  reserve  was.  I told  him  that  in  a month 
Mitchel  would  have  in  all  over  sixty  thousand  men  ! He  asked  what 
would  be  done  with  such  an  army  ? I told  him  that  of  course  we  did  not 
know,  but  that  the  general  opinion  was  that  Mitchel  would  soon  take 
Chattanooga,  then  Atlanta,  and  that  there  was  no  force  that  could  stop 


214 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


him  till  he  had  reached  the  sea  and  cut  the  Confederacy  in  halves  ! Lead- 
better  seemed  profoundly  impressed;  said  that  he  had  no  idea  that  Mitchel 
had  so  many  men  at  his  disposal.  (Had  the  Federal  Government  given 
Mitchel  such  an  army  for  such  a purpose  from  Halleck’s  and  McClellan’s 
surplus,  how  different  would  have  been  the  story  of  the  war  !)  I do  not 
know  whether  this  misinformation  had  anything  to  do  with  the  disgraceful 
manner  in  which  Leadbetter  ran  away  from  Mitchel  at  Bridgeport  two 
weeks  afterwards  ! " 

Then  the  General  wanted  me  to  tell  just  how  many  men  we  had  on 
the  train,  and  to  describe  them  so  that  they  might  be  recognized  if  cap- 
tured. The  latter  I could  not  have  done  if  it  had  been  to  save  their  lives 
and  mine.  The  former  I would  not  do,  as  I could  see  a bearing  it  might 
have  on  the  pursuit.  So  I answered  firmly,  “General,  I have  freely  told 
you  whatever  concerns  only  myself,  for  I want  you  to  know  that  I am  a 
United  States  soldier,  and  under  military  protection;  but  I am  not  yet 
base  enough  to  describe  my  comrades,  or  help  you  in  any  way  to  capture 
them.” 

“ OhP’  answered  he,  as  if  the  idea  was  amusing,  “ I donT  know  that 
I ought  to  ask  that.” 

“ I think  not  sir,’^  I replied. 

“Well,’^  said  he,  “I  know  all  about  it.  Your  leader’s  name  is 
Andrews.  What  kind  of  a man  is  he  ?” 

I was  thunderstruck!  How  could  he  have  Andrews’s  name  and  know 
him  to  be  our  leader  ? Perhaps  Leadbetter  was  a deeper  man  than  I 
thought,  and  had  been  playing  with  me  all  this  time.  (For  I have  given 
a small  part  only  of  our  conversation,  but  all  the  general  drift  of  it.) 
I never  dreamed  of  the  true  reason.  I had  every  confidence  that  Andrews 
would  get  away  and  try  some  measures  for  our  relief.  So  I answered 
boldly: 

“I  can  tell  you  only  one  thing  about  him;  and  that  is,  he  is  a man 
you  will  never  catch.” 

The  smile  on  Leadbetter’s  face  became  very  broad  and  self-satisfied 
as  I said  thjs,  but  he  only  added: 

“ That  will  do  for  you.’^ 

And  turning  to  a captain  who  stood  by,  he  said: 

“ Take  him  to  the  hole.  You  know  where  that  is.’^ 

The  subordinate  gave  the  military  salute,  and  took  me  from  the  room. 
At  the  door  stood  A7idrews  heavily  ironed,  and  Ross  and  Wollarn  with  him! 
I then  knew  why  the  General  smiled.  We  did  not  openly  recognize  each 
other;  but  my  heart  sank  lower  than  it  yet  had  done.  Our  very  leader  a 

* April  28th,  E.  Kirby  Smith  writes  Leadbetter  in  answer  to  a question  that  he  “ has 
no  information  of  reinforcements  reaching  the  enemy  at  Nashville  ; their  force  at  that 
point  is  stated  at  five  regiments.’’  War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  460. 


First  Prison  Experiences, 


215 


helpless  prisoner!  Who  now  could  carry  the  news  of  our  disaster,  and  ar- 
range for  exchange,  or  stay  the  enemy^s  hand  by  the  threat  of  retalia- 
tion! I thought  our  ruin  was  utter  and  irremediable;  and  that  we  had 
sunk  as  low  as  possible.  But  before  I slept,  I learned  that  there  was  a 
deep  yet  lower! 


/ 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  OLD  NEGRO  JAIL  AT  CHATTANOOGA, 

[Authorities. — ^Daring  and  Suffering,  1863. — War  Records.  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i, 
page  632. — Adventures  of  A If  . Wilson^  Toledo,  1880. — Key  West  Chronicle,  Nov. 
15th,  1862. — Newspaper  accounts  published  by  all  survivors  in  1862-3. — Sworn  Tes- 
timony in  War  Office  by  Buffum,  Reddick,  Parrott,  Bensinger  and  Pittenger.] 

The  sufferings  of  Northern  prisoners  in  the. South  constitutes  prob- 
• ably  the  most  terrible  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  war.  Attempts  to  \ 
soften  the  fearful  story  have  met  with  slight  success.  The  lot  of 
the  prisoner  of  war  is  always  deplorable,  as  accommodations  are  scanty, 
and  the  hardships  of  camp  life  greatly  aggravated.  But  the  Union 
prisoners  in  the  South  suffered  more  than  is  usual  in  military  prisons. 
The  Southern  States  were  slenderly  supplied  with  means  for  the  care 
of  bodies  of  troops  numbered  by  thousands;  the  Northern  armies  were 
pressing  severely,  and  tightening  the  blockade  by  sea  and  land  with  the 
express  design  of  depriving  them  of  necessaries  for  prosecuting  the  war; 
and  in  case  of  scarcity  it  was  natural  that  Northern  prisoners  would  first 
suffer.  But  to  this  was  added  a terribly  bitter  feeling,  which  sometimes 
found  delight  in  gratuitously  embittering  the  prisoner’s  lot.  The  horrors 
of  Andersonville  cannot  soon  be  palliated  or  forgotten. 

But  the  sufferings  of  ordinary  prisoners  was  far  exceeded  in  the  case  ^ 
of  the  Andrews  raiders.  Our  leader  had  been  trusted  by  the  enemy  and 
had  betsayed  them.  We  had  inflicted  an  amount  of  fright  altogether  dis- 
proportionate to  our  numbers;  and  we  were  now  believed  to  be  beyond 
the  protection  of  the  laws  of  war,  and  almost  beyond  the  pale  of  humanity. 

It  was  thought  that  we  were  selected  for  our  desperate  character,  and 
therefore  would  require  an  extraordinary  amount  of  guarding  to  prevent  \ 
us  from  escaping  or  doing  further  injury.  Such  considerations  no  doubt 
had  weight  in  the  minds  of  our  captors. 

But  these  alone  are  not  sufficient  to  explain  the  story  that  follows.  I 
have  hesitated  in  regard  to  telling  it  at  all;  but  there  is  at  least  one  good 
reason  for  recording  all  that  the  proprieties  of  language  will  permit — a rea- 
son which  also  goes  far  to  account  for  the  full  horrors  experienced. 
Nothing  better  shows  the  spirit  of  the  institution  of  slavery,  and  the  de- 
basing effect  it  produces  on  the  master  class.  Those  in  whose  power  we 


217 


The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga, 

now  fell  had  been  used  to  seeing  men,  women,  and  children  publicly 
sold,  whipped,  hunted  with  dogs,  or  shut  up  like  wild  beasts  in  dens. 
% With  such  experiences  they  would  not  be  likely  to  care  much  for  the  suf- 
ferings of  enemies,  whom  they  had  come  to  regard  as  the  friends  of  the 
enslaved  race.  Accordingly  it  is  in  the  negro  prisons  that  our  band  found 
their  most  tearful  experiences. 

The  story  of  the  little,  old,  Chattanooga  prison  cannot  be  fully  told. 
Terrible  hardships  which  had  to  be  lived  through  in  agonies  of  shuddering 
disgust,  and  in  utterly  helpless  disregard  of  the  decencies  of  life — a daily 
and  unceasing  combination  of  pain  and  loathing— can  hardly  be  told  by 
one  friend  to  another,  much  less  spread  on  the  cold  printed  page.  The 
reader  will  remember  that  for  every  painful  thing  related,  a dozen  more 
are  behind,  which  dare  not  be  named.  Let  it  be  understood  that  there 
is  no  exaggeration.  Photographic  accuracy,  within  the  limits  already  in- 
dicated, is  aimed  at.  This  worst  of  all  the  prisons  has  long  since  been 

• swept  away;  but  its  memory  will  never  grow  faint  while  one  of  its  hapless 
victims  survives.  The  story  rests  not  alone  on  my  evidence,  but  is  estab- 
lished by  sworn  testimony  published  in  the  War  Records.^ 

The  captain,  who  was  appointed  my  conductor,  called  a guard  of  eight 
men  at  the  door  of  Leadbetter’s  room,  and  led  me  for  some  distance 
through  the  streets  of  Chattanooga.  Two  of  the  rebel  soldiers  linked 
j arms  with  me,  one  on  each  side,  two  walked  in  front,  and  four  followed 
behind.  I could  not  help  telling  the  captain  that  they  took  better  care  of 
our  men  than  we  did  of  theirs;  that  I had  once  guarded  a Georgian 
a long  distance  without  any  help,  and  with  no  handcuffs  on  him.  He 
did  not  resent  the  implied  reproach,  only  saying  that  they  meant  to  make 
sure  of  me.  At  length  we  came  to  a little  brick  building,  surrounded  by 
a high  broad  fence.  It  stood,  as  I learned  long  afterward,  on  Lookout 

* street,  between  Fourth  and  Fifth.  The  ground  sloped  rapidly  upward,  so 
that  the  back  of  the  jail  was  built  into  the  hill  while  the  front  was  level 
with  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The  jail  had  two  stories,  with  two  rooms 
in  each  story.  It  was  quite  high  for  its  length  and  breadth.  The  jailor 
and  family  lived  in  the  upper  and  lower  rooms  at  the  north  end,  and  the 
rooms  at  the  south  end  were  the  prisons,  the  lower  being  entered  only 

^ from  the  upper,  and  that  in  turn  only  from  the  jailer's  room.  This  prison 
when  built  was  intended  for  the  accommodation  of  negroes  by  their 
humane  owners.^  Another  and  much  larger  prison,  in  which  were  confined 
the  great  majority  of  white  offenders,  and  afterward  of  war  prisoners,  was 
situated  on  Fourth  and  Market  Streets. 

Swims,  the  jailor,  was  a peculiar  character.  He  was  old,  perhaps  sixty, 
^ with  abundant  white  hair,  and  a dry  and  withered  face.  His  voice  was 


* Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  page  632. 


2i8 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


always  keyed  on  a whining  tone^  except  when  some  great  cause  such  as 
the  requests  of  prisoners  for  an  extra  bucket  of  water  aroused  his  ire, 
when  it  rose  to  a hoarse  scream.  Avarice  was  a strong  trait.  He  seemed 
to  think  his  accommodations  vastly  too  good  for  negroes  and  “Yankees,” 


The  Swims  Jail  at  Chattanooga. 

and  that  when  admitted  to  his 
hospitality,  they  should  be  thank- 
ful and  give  as  little  trouble  as 
possible.  With  such  notions  it 
is  easily  seen  how  much  he  could  add  to  the  sufferings  of  prisoners. 
One  thing  favorable  was  that  he  was  fond  of  a dram,  and  when  indulging, 
became  very  talkative,  revealing  many  things  that  we  could  not  otherwise 
have  learned. 

We  halted  for  a moment  at  the  camp-fire  of  the  guard  outside  the 


i 


c 


i 


( 


Entering-  the  Dungeon. 


The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga. 


219 


gate;  then  Swims  came  out  grumbling  about  being  disturbed  so  much, 
and  unlocking  the  gate,  admitted  us.  We  crossed  the  yard,  ascended 
the  long  outside  stairway,  and  from  an  outside  landing  entered  the  bed- 
room. From  this  a door  opened  into  the  prison.  I looked  around  by  the 
dim  light  of  a candle  the  jailor  carried,  and  thought  I understood  why 
the  General  called  the  place  a “hole.’’  The  room  was  quite  small, 
square,  and  entirely  destitute  of  furniture  of  any  kind  except  a long 
ladder  which  lay  on  the  floor.  There  were  five  or  six  old,  miserable-look- 
ing men  in  the  room,  whose  clothes  hung  in  tatters,  and  who  presented  a 
terribly  starved,  dirty,  and  wretched  appearance.  It  was  a dreadful  place, 
and  I shuddered  at  the  idea  of  taking  up  my  abode  in  such  a den.  But  I 
soon  found  I was  not  to  be  so  highly  favored,  and  a little  more  expe- 
rience was  sufficient  to  make  me  look  almost  with  envy  upon  these  old  men. 

Said  the  jailer  to  the  Captain,  “ Where  shall  I put  him?” 

Below,  of  course,’^  was  the  prompt  reply. 

The  jailer  advanced  to  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  kneeling  down, 
took  a large  key  from  his  pocket,  and  applying  it  to  a hole  in  the  floor, 
gave  it  a turn,  and  then  with  a great  effort,  raised  a ponderous  trap-door 
right  at  my  feet.  A rush  of  hot  air,  and  a stifling  stench  as  from  the 
mouth  of  the  pit,  smote  me  in  the  face,  and  I involuntarily  recoiled  back- 
ward; but  the  bayonets  of  the  guard  were  behind,  and  there  was  no 
escape.  The  ladder  was  then  thrust  down,  and  long  as  it  was,  it  no 
more  than  penetrated  the  great  depth.  The  wretches  whose  voices  I could 
hear  confusedly  murmuring  below  were  ordered  to  stand  from  under,  and 
I was  compelled  to  descend  into  what  seemed  more  like  the  infernal 
regions  than  any  place  on  earth.  It  was  hard  to  find  the  steps  of  the 
ladder — for  the  candle  of  the  jailor  gave  almost  no  light,  and  I had  on  my 
handcuffs;  but  I went  down,  feeling  for  each  step,  to  a depth  of  some  thir- 
teen feet.  I stepped  off  the  ladder,  treading  on  human  beings  I 
could  not  discern,  and  wedged  in  as  best  I might.  Then  the  ladder  was 
slowly  drawn  up,  and  in  a moment  more  the  trap  fell  with  a dull  and 
heavy  sound  that  seemed  crushing  down  on  my  heart,  and  every  ray  of 
light  vanished.  I was  shut  into  a living  tomb — buried  alive  ! 

I could  feel  men  around  me  and  hear  their  breathing  in  the  darkness, 
so  that  I knew  the  den  was  crowded  full.  Though  it  was  night  and  cool 
outside,  the  heat  here  was  more  than  that  of  a tropic  noon,  and  the  per- 
spiration soon  oozed  from  every  pore.  The  fetid  air  and  the  stench 
made  me  for  a time  deadly  sick,  and,  worst  of  all,  there  was  an  almost 
unbearable  sense  of  suffocation.  I wondered  if  it  could  be  possible  that 
they  would  leave  human  beings  in  such  a place  till  death  came  in  this  hor- 
rible form — death,  which  could  not  be  long  delayed.  I thought  of  “ The 
Black  Hole  of  Calcutta,^’  where  a hundred  and  six  years  earlier  so  many 
Englishmen  were  suffocated  in  one  terrible  night  by  a savage  East  Indian. 


220  Daring  and  Suffering, 

I had  heard  of  negroes  being  burned  alive  or  whipped  to  death  in  our  own 
South,  but  these  horrors  were  always,  I supposed,  meant  as  vengeance  for 
some  fiendish  outrage.  Yet  of  all  the  forms  of  death,  that  by  slow  suffo-  c 
cation  had  always  appeared  most  dreadful,  and  this  now  seemed  imminent. 

As  I had  been  brought  to  this  place  in  the  dark,  I knew  nothing  of  its 
character,  and  after  the  first  moment  of  stupefaction,  resolved  to  explore 
its  size  and  nature.  No  one  of  my  companions  had  yet  spoken  to  me  or 
I to  them.  Whether  they  were  black  or  white,  soldiers  or  citizens,  chained 
like  myself,  or  with  the  free  use  of  their  hands,  I could  not  tell,  and  I 
scarcely  liked  to  ask,  lest  the  answer  should  add  new  misery,  I jambed 
my  way  through  the  living  throng  to  the  wall  and  felt  along  it  to  learn  if 
there  was  door  or  window.  There  was  no  door,  the  only  entrance  to  the 
fearful  place  being  by  the  trap  down  which  I came.  Neither  were  there 
any  windows,  but  I found  two  holes  in  the  wall,  opposite  each  other,  each 
little  more  than  a foot  square,  and  filled  with  three  rows  of  iron  bars.  The 
walls,  as  could  be  told  at  the  holes,  were  very  thick,  being  made  of  anC 

inner  case  of  oak  logs,  and  a brick 
wall  outside.  Even  in  day-time,  these 
holes  gave  little  light,  for  one  was 
close  under  the  outside  stairway  al- 
ready described,  and  the  other  below 
the  level  of  the  ground.  Yet  a little^ 
air  could  come  though  the  thick-set 
bars,  and  served  to  revive  me, — 
making  it  possible  to  endure  life 
here  for  a short  time. 

When  the  first  shock  had  passed 
and  I became  partially  inured  to  the 

r 

terrible  oppression  of  the  atmos-'^ 
phere,  I tried  to  ascertain  something 
of  the  condition  of  my  companions. 
The  most  fearful  description  of  this  place  of  torment  that  can  be  given  is 
contained  in  the  plain  cold  figures, — the  number  of  the  prisoners  and  the 
size  and  manner  of  their  lodging.  Before  I entered  there  were  fourteen 
white  men  and  one  negro.  This  evening  the  number  was  increased  to  nine-^ 
teen  and  soon  after  to  twenty-two,  at  which  point  it  remained  for  many 
days.  The  room  was  just  thirteen  feet  square,  and  about  the  same  in 
height.  These  numbers  are  not  approximations,  but  are  meant  to  be  ac- 
cepted exactly  and  literally.  The  entire  furniture  of  the  room  consisted  of 
four  buckets  for  water  and  slops  ! And  here  twenty-two  men  had  to  re- 
main day  and  night,  with  no  respite,  and  no  power  to  leave  the  room  for  ^ 
any  purpose,  for  more  than  two  weeks  ! It  was  possible,  as  will  be  seen  by 
reference  to  the  accompanying  sketch,  for  all  to  lie  down  at  once;  but  it 


The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga, 


221 


required  the  nicest  fitting  and  no  small  degree  of  crowding.  There  were 
two  rows  of  ten  persons  each,  occupying  the  space  of  thirteen  feet,  and 
f two  persons  could  rest  between  the  feet  of  the  rows.  But  when  one 
turned,  all  in  his  row  was  obliged  to  turn  likewise;  and  as  all  were  chained 
in  some  manner,  the  crowding,  the  exclamations,  and  the  clanking  of 
chains  in  the  black  darkness  of  this  dungeon  presented  as  ^ood  a repre- 
sentation of  the  realms  of  the  lost  as  has  ever  been  known! 

My  prison  mates  received  me  very  kindly  and  answered  questions 
freely.  I had  no  hesitation  in  telling  them  who  I was,  and  this  at  once 
^ won  their  confidence.  They  were  Union  men  from  various  parts  of  East 
Tennessee.  Many  of  them  had  been  in  prison  for  six  or  eight  months, 
and  the  offenses  charged  varied  from  that  of  simply  preferring  the  old 
government  to  the  new,  slave-built  Confederacy,  to  that  of  bridge  burn- 
ing, or  of  being  helpers  of  the  Union  army.  The  latter  were  called  spies. 
One  of  them  was  blind,  the  rebels  accusing  him  of  only  feigning  blind- 
% ness;  but  from  all  I could  observe,  I think  it  was  real. 

I was  greatly  interested  in  the  one  negro  in  this  miserable  place.  He 
was  very  friendly  and  anxious  to  be  of  service  to  us  in  any  possible  way. 
Some  days  after  my  arrival,  he  was  taken  out  and  brought  back  again 
after  an  hour  or  so,  seeming  to  be  in  a good  deal  of  suffering.  His  story, 
which  he  gave  as  if  it  were  the  most  ordinary  thing  in  the  world,  moved 
^ me  to  indignation  which  I would  gladly  have  expressed  in  some  way  more 
vigorous  than  words. 

He  was  arrested  and  imprisoned  on  suspicion  of  being  a fugitive  slave. 
The  law  in  such  cases  did  not  put  the  burden  of  proof  on  the  person  ar- 
resting, but  on  the  negro.  Aleck  had  been  treated  as  law  and  custom 
provided.  He  was  first  carefully  examined,  and  whipped  till  he  made 
some  kind  of  confession:  then  he  was  put  in  jail,  and  advertised  in  accord- 
* ance  with  that  confession.  If  a master  appeared  and  proved  property,  he 
was  obliged  to  pay  all  jail  and  whipping  fees,  costs  of  advertising,  and  a 
liberal  reward  to  the  person  arresting;  and  then,  usually  flogging  the 
negro  unmercifully  for  the  trouble  and  expense  he  bad  caused,  he  could 
take  his  property.  But  if  no  answer  came  to  the  advertisement,  it  was 
taken  for  granted  that  the  negro  lied,  and  he  was  brought  out  and  flogged 
» into  a new  confession,  after  which  he  was  remanded  to  jail  and  again  ad- 
vertised. Thus  they  continued,  if  no  master  appeared,  flogging  and  ad- 
vertising, for  a year,  when  the  poor  fellow  was  sold  at  public  auction, 
and  the  proceeds  applied  to  pay  the  expenses  of  all  these  barbarous 
inflictions  ! No  trial  was  allowed  by  which  the  negro  might  prove  himself 
free.  When  once  arrested,  unless  he  happened  to  have  some  powerful 
^ white  friend,  his  doom  was  sealed;  and  in  this  way,  in  the  old  slavery 
times,  many  a freed  negro  found  his  way  back  into  bondage. 

No  answer  having  been  received  to  t'ae  advertisement  for  Aleck,  he 


222 


Daring  a7td  Suffer  mg. 


had  been  taken  out  for  one  of  his  periodical  whippings.  He  had  now 
been  in  this  prison  for  seven  months,  and  was  to  remain  five  more, with  no 
prospect  but  that  of  being  sold  into  perpetual  bondage.  We  pitied  him 
from  the  bottom  of  our  hearts,  and  are  glad  to  believe  that,  if  he  lived,  the 
triumph  of  the  Union  armies  relieved  him  from  his  dreadful  position. 
These  things  were  not  all  ascertained  on  the  same  evening  though  several 
of  them  were,  for  I did  all  I could  to  get  a complete  mastery  of  my  sur- 
roundings, that  I might  be  ready  for  any  possibility  of  escape.  But  the 
chances  were  slight  indeed.  The  floor  and  the  walls. were  of  solid  oak, 
many  inches  thick;  a circle  of  guards  was  all-  the  time  on  duty  outside; 
and  the  only  egress  was  by  means  of  the  ladder  put  down  in  the  presence 
of  the  jailor  and  a strong  guard. 

As  we  were  talking  in  the  darkness,  we  heard  the  tramp  of  many  feet 
on  the  outside  stairway,  with  the  clank  of  chains,  and  listened  to  learn 
what  next  was  coming  to  pass.  The  noise  came  overhead,  and  then  the 
trap-door  opened  and  a stream  of  comparatively  cool  air  poured  down  from  ^ 
the  room  above,  and  drew  in  through  our  narrow  windows.  We  breathed 
with  a sense  of  indescribable  relief — drinking  in  the  air  as  the  desert  trav- 
eller drinks  from  the  mountain  brook  ! — oh  ! what  a luxury  it  would  be,  if 
that  trap-door  could  only  be  kept  open  ! It  might  have  been  if  our  life 
or  comfort  had  been  valued  by  those  in  authority. 

A number  of  men  were  seen  above  by  the  feeble  glimmer  of  the  jailer’s  ^ 
candle,  and  the  long  ladder  was  thrust  down  and  seized  by  a man  below  to 
prevent  it  from  striking  some  head,  and  it  was  clear  that  others  were  being 
sent  down.  The  Tennesseeans  cried  out;  “ Don’t  put  any  more  down 
here.  We’re  full  ! Wefll  die  if  any  more  are  put  down.” 

These  most  reasonable  remonstrances  produced  no  effect,  and  were  not 
answered.  On  came  the  new  victims,  clambering  slowly — there  were  three 
of  them — as  men  chained  together  were  obliged  to  do  when  on  such  a^ 
road.  I stationed  myself  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  made  to  them 
some  such  safe  remark  as,  “This  is  a hard  place  to  come  to  ! and  in  a 
moment  found  my  hand  caught  in  a warm  strong  grasp,  and  “ Pittenger,’^ 
“Ross,”  was  mutually  whispered.  It  was  Andrews,  Wollam  and  Ross! 

I had  seen  them  chained  in  front  of  Leadbetter’s  room.  Now  they  were 
here;  and  the  sense  of  misfortune  seemed  lightened  by  half.  To  die  in  t 
the  company  of  friends  was  better  than  to  die  alone.  I pitied  them  and 
wished  them  free;  but  it  was  far  better  to  be  confined  together  than  for 
us  to  endure  the  same  suffering  in  separation.  A whisper  more  to  Ross 
brought  me  the  information  that  they  had  given  their  names  and  charac- 
ter. I told  my  story,  and  the  kind  of  a place  into  which  we  had  come; 
while  they  gave  me  the  history  of  their  adventures  since  we  had  parted  ^ 
on  leaving  the  train.  There  was  so  much  to  tell  of  the  past  three  days’ 
history  (this  was  Monday  evening),  that  we  did  not  do  much  more  in 


The  Chained  Men  Descending  into  the  Dungeon. 


224 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


making  the  acquaintance  of  the  East  Tennesseeans  that  night.  The  lat- 
ter kindly  allowed  us  to  take  a corner  close  to  one  of  the  window  holes, 
where  we  could  the  more  readily  converse.  Ross  and  Wollam  agreed  with 
me  that  our  best  course  would  be  to  claim,  with  all  our  strength,  to  be  de- 
tailed Union  soldiers,  not  denying  what  we  really  did, — only  claiming  that/ 
we  were  not  volunteers, but  were  ordered  on  this  expedition  with  no  choice, 
and  simply  obeyed  orders.  Andrews  also  approved,  but  said  that  his 
case  was  separate  from  ours,  and  much  worse. 

An  hour  or  two  passed  in  such  conversation  not  altogether  unpleasantly 
and  it  came  time  to  sleep.  A soldier  is  not  particular  in  such  matters,  ^ 
but  never  had  I been  placed  in  such  a situation  as  this.  Lying  down  in 
the  woods  unsheltered  from  the  pouring  rain  was  bad  enough,  but  this  was 
far  worse.  The  night  before  in  the  Lafayette  jail  I had  abundance  of 
room,  air,  and  blankets.  The  lattice  cage  was  a palace  in  comparison  with 
this  loathsome  “ hole.^^  We  were  warm  enough,  though  we  had  no  bedding 
whatever;  in  fact,  one  of  the  first  things  we  did  was  to  disrobe  as  far  as  ^ 
our  irons  would  permit.  Many  of  the  East  Tennesseeans,  who  were  not 
fettered,  were  entirely  naked,  because  of  the  intense  heat.  But  we 
adjusted  ourselves  in  our  corner,  so  that  our  chains  might  cramp  us  as 
little  as  possible,  and  ceasing  to  talk,  were  soon  asleep.  The  others  in  the 
room  were  already  unconscious.  The  one  advantage  of  the  terribly  close 
atmosphere  was  that  the  great  heat  and  the  slow  carbonic  acid  poisoning  ^ 
from  the  impure  air  rendered  slumber  easy,  and  we  found  little  trouble  in 
sleeping  early  and  late.  The  arranging  for  rest  required  very  nice  adjust- 
ment, and  if  any  one  wanted  to  change  his  position  he  was  sure  to  arouse 
all  who  were  near  him;  or  if  he  rose  up  to  go  for  a drink,  he  had  to  take 
along  those  who  were  chained  to  him  and  was  apt  to  tread  on  his  neigh- 
bors, which  gave  rise  to  some  warm  altercations  with  the  result  of  still 
further  disturbing  our  slumbers.  ^ 

We  were  aroused  the  next  morning  early, — as  it  seemed  to  us,  but 
really  late, — by  the  opening  of  the  trap-door,  and  the  delick)us  shower  of 
cool  air  that  fell  upon  us.  As  we  looked  up  we  saw  the  white  head  of  our 
old  jailer  framed  in  the  opening,  and  heard  him  saying,  in  drawling  tones, 
“Boys,  here's  your  breakfast;”  then  he  lowered,  hand  over  hand,  a 
bucket  at  the  end  of  a rope,  till  it  was  within  reach,  when  it  was  eagerly  % 
secured  from  below. 

There  was  a strong  brotherly  feeling  among  the  East  Tennesseeans, 
and  not  less  in  our  party.  So  the  division  of  the  food — a matter  of  great 
importance — was  scrupulously  fair,  the  weak  getting  as  much  as  the 
strong.  Aleck  was  given  as  much  as  any  of  the  rest.  There  was  but  a 
tiny  fragment  of  corn  bread  and  a still  smaller  slice  of  unsavory  meat  for  ^ 
each,  not  one-fourth  as  much  as  I could  have  eaten  with  the  hearty 
appetite  I still  retained.  I felt  hungrier  after  devouring  it  than  before.  It 


The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga, 


225 


was  now  nearly  nine  o^clock^  and  we  were  told  by  the  old  citizens  of  the 
jail  that  meals  were  only  served  twice  a day,  and  that  we  would  get  no 
more  till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  They  also  encouraged  us  by  saying 
that  after  we  had  been  in  there  a month  or  two,  we  would  not  feel  so 
hungry  ! It  was  not  hard  to  believe  this;  in  fact,  we  thought  that  less 
time  than  that  would  cure  our  hunger  forever  ! 

There  was  now  a feeble  glimmer  of  light  in  our  den,  by  means  of  which 
we  could  form  a better  idea  of  its  character  than  on  the  preceding  evening. 
But  there  was  nothing  reassuring  in  the  survey.  Our  eyes  had  become 
used  to  the  feeble  twilight,  which  was  all  that  ever  visited  us  here,  and  we 
could  look  on  each  other’s  pallid  faces.  The  Union  men  had  not  been 
able  to  change  their  garments  for  months;  no  water  was  ever  given  to 
them  or  to  us  for  washing;  and  their  faces  wore  a look  of  hopeless  misery, 
in  the  majority  of  cases,  which  was  terribly  pathetic.  Under  no  circum- 
stances did  our  spirits  sink  so  low,  or  did  we  suffer  so  much  from  mere 
imprisonment,  as  did  these  men.  The  very  danger  we  were  in,  the  assur- 
ance that  our  fate,  one  way  or  the  other,  would  probably  be  determined 
in  a short  time,  the  confidence  in  our  own  power  to  make  a bold  strike  for 
freedom  if  the  faintest  chance  was  allowed,  and  still  more  the  sense  of 
comradeship,  and  the  interest  in  telling  our  stories,  and  cheering  each 
other, — all  these  contributed  to  make  us  bear  up  courageously. 

During  the  day  G.  D.  Wilson,  Dorsey,  Buffum,  Bensinger,  Porter 
and  Hawkins  came  in.  They  told  an  interesting  series  of  adventures. 
After  capture  they  were  taken  to  Ringgold,  and  the  same  evening  to 
Marietta,  where  they  had  been  placed  in  a prison  but  little  inferior  in 
every  vile  element  to  our  present  abode.  They  were  guarded  by  a heavy 
force  of  Cadets  from  the  military  school  at  Marietta  and  narrowly  escaped 
a mob.  They  finally  heard  a clanking  of  chains,  and  were  called  out  and 
chained  by  the  necks  in  couples,  and  also  handcuffed.  Then  they  were 
taken  north  over  the  line  of  our  fiery  chase,  and  stopped  at  Dalton. 
While  waiting  here,  some  of  the  ladies  came  with  their  servants  and 
brought  them  a really  first-class  supper.  This  was  one  of  the  few  pleasant 
incidents  in  this  part  of  our  history.  Dorsey  complains  that  he  and  his 
companions  were  not  accustomed  to  eat  with  irons  on,  and  that  they  were 
not  very  graceful  ! The  ladies  probably  excused  them,  for  two  of  their 
number  drew  near  and  talked  with  them,  weeping  freely.  One  lady  gave 
Dorsey  a rose,  which  he  preserved  as  long  as  he  could.  There  was  a mob 
outside  threatening  to  attack  them,  and  seemingly  the  more  enraged  by 
the  presence  of  the  ladies.  But  the  guards  withstood  bravely,  and  they 
reached  Chattanooga  in  safety,  where  they  were  taken  to  a hotel  to  await 
orders,  and  the  landlord  at  his  own  cost  gave  them  a good  breakfast. 
Then  they  were  brought  to  us  in  the  Swims  jail.  On  the  way  through 
the  crowded  street,  with  their  chains,  a loud-voiced  man  called  out, 

15 


226  Daring  and  Suffering, 

“ Will  them  hounds  hunt  2'^  Had  they  been  free,  he  might  soon  have 
learned  ! 

Others  of  our  party  joined  us,  in  bands  of  two  or  three,  at  short  inter- 
vals, and  told  us  the  thrilling  story  of  their  adventures.  After,  a little, 
the  East  Tennesseeans  were  removed^  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  room 
as  others  of  our  number  were  brought, — until  at  last  we  were  all  below 
and  they  were  all  taken  out,  so  that  we  had  the  dreadful  place  to  ourselves. 
Euffum,  with  grim  humor^  would  greet  the  new  arrivals,  saying  in  his  nasal 
way,  “Well,  boys,  they  took  you  in  out  of  the  dew  ! 

Every  one  was  brought  in  chained  in  some  manner,  but  expected,  when 
put  into  such  a dungeon,  that  these  irons  would  be  removed.  In  this  we 
were  mistaken.  Either  from  an  excess  of  precaution,  or  from  the  wish 
to  punish  us,  the  irons  were  retained.  Some  were  fastened  together  by 
neck  chains,  and  others  by  handcuffs.  They  economized  in  the  use  of 
the  latter  by  making  one  pair  serve  for  two  men,  the  right  hand  of  the 
one  and  the  left  of  the  other  being  locked  together.  Reddick  was  the  first 
to  whom  I was  strongly  attached  for  some  time,  but  was  afterward  glad  to 
exchange  him  for  Buffum,  who  had  a very  small  hand,  and  was  able  by  a 
little  painful  squeezing  to  draw  it  out  altogether,  leaving  me  with  simply 
a pair  of  cuffs  dangling  from*  my  left  hand. 

That  this  terrible  place  was  swarming  with  vermin,  not  only  rats  and 
mice,  but  other  kinds,  smaller  and  worse,  will  be  understood  without 
further  statement,  as  well  as  our  helplessness  in  guarding  against  them 
while  in  the  dark,  and  in  chains,  with  not  even  as  much  water  as  we  needed 
for  drinking!  One  of  the  grievances  of  the  jailer  was  the  great  amount 
of  water  we  drank,  or  rather  wished  to  drink,  for  our  persuasions  shouted 
up  through  the  trap-door  could  not  induce  him  to  greatly  increase  the 
allowance  which  he  deemed  right;  but  the  officer  of  the  guard  would  some- 
times order  him  to  bring  us  more,  which  he  would  do  with  great  grumbling. 
Usually  the  water-buckets  would  be  empty  long  before  the  time  at  the 
giving  of  food  when  he  judged  it  proper  to  replenish  them. 

Hunger  was  also  very  pressing,  and  as  one  or  two  of  the  number  had 
managed  when  searched  to  secrete  a little  money, — all  the  rest  had  been 
taken  from  us — we  resolved  to  try  to  buy  additional  food.  Accordingly 
Swims  was  asked  if  he  would  buy  for  us.  He  asked  the  guard,  and  find- 
ing no  objections,  said,  ‘‘Yes;  you  can  buy,  if  you  have  the  money. 
We  had  a very  earnest  consultation  as  to  the  form  in  which  the  money 
would  go  furthest,  and  finally’ settled  on  wheat  bread  and  molasses,  as  the 
latter  was  very  cheap.  The  money  was  handed  up  in  the  evening,  and  we 
made  great  calculations  on  having  a royal  breakfast  next  morning, — all  we 
could  eat  ! The  time  came,  and  we  were  more  eager  than  usual  for  the 
lowering  of  the  bucket,  but  when  it  was  seized  there  was  only  the  starving 
allowance  of  corn  bread  and  spoiled  pork  ! Some  one  called  out,  “Swims, 


The  Old  Negro  Jail  at  Chattanooga. 


227 


how  about  the  wheat  bread  and  molasses?”  He  leaned  over  and  said 
in  his  slowest  and  most  provoking  tones:  “ T-o-y-s,  I lost  that  77wney  ! ” 
Could  we  have  reached  him,  I am  not  sure  that  he  would  not  have  been 
lost  also  ! It  is  hard  to  imagine  how  angry  starving  men  could  get  under 
such  circumstances.  AVe  called  to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  who  came  to 
the  trap-door,  and  heard  our  grievance,  but  only  laughed  at  us,  saying 
that  if  we  trusted  Swims  with  our  money  we  would  have  to  take  the  conse- 
quences. Fortunately  we  had  not  put  quite  all  our  funds  on  this  one  ven- 
ture, and  the  officer  tried  his  hand  with  better  results;  but  the  amount 
purchased  was  too  small  to  be  of  any  considerable  benefit. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


GLEAMS  OF  HOPE. 

Avery  erroneous  impression  would  be  given  the  reader  if  he  imagined 
that  we  spent  our  time  here  in  nothing  but  hopelessly  bemoaning 
our  misery.  There  were  times  when  our  situation  seemed  over- 
whelming; but  usually  we  kept  our  minds  busy  during  waking  hours  in 
telling  stories,  in  speculating  on  the  prospects  of  the  war,  or  planning  es- 
cape. We  had  no  idea  that  the  rebellion  would  last  much  longer;  the 
great  armies  of  McClellan  and  Halleck,  we  thought,  would  soon  crush  their 
opponents,  and  Mitchel  would  be  upon  Chattanooga,  and  thus  deliver  us 
from  our  horrible  confinement.  Could  we  live  but  a little  longer,  the 
chances  of  deliverance  were  good,  and  we  were  human  enough  to  talk  of 
vengeance  that  would  follow.  There  was  but  little  of  a religious  character 
in  our  conversation;  that  came  later;  but  we  discussed  all  things  relating 
to  the  country  and  its  policy  with  the  deepest  interest.  It  now  seems 
scarcely  credible  that,  among  us  all,  there  were  but  two  out-and-out  aboli- 
tionists— Buffum  and  myself.  Many  a heated  discussion  had  we  on 
slavery  and  on  the  propriety  of  arming  the  negroes.  But  the  two  of  us 
could  always  win  an  advantage  by  appealing  to  our  own  experience. 
That  was  an  irresistible  argument ! When  the  others  refused  to  credit 
some  horrible  atrocity  of  slave  times,  we  could  retaliate  by  saying  that 
there  were  people  who  would  not  believe  in  the  reality  of  such  treatment 
as  we  were  receiving;  that  this  was  a natural  fruit  of  slavery,  and  that  we 
were  getting  a chance  of  seeing  how  the  negroes  must  have  liked  it  1 A 
good  deal  of  temper  was  evoked  by  such  reasoning,  but  slowly  its  force 
made  its  way,  and  slavery  could  not  long  have  been  maintained  had  its 
existence  depended  on  a vote  taken  in  our  prison.  Andrews  took  no  part 
in  our  discussions  beyond  saying  that  he  was  no  abolitionist,  but  believed 
that  negroes  should  be  better  protected  against  cruelty. 

We  also  talked  much  of  home-life  and  friends,  and  thus  became  really 
acquainted  for  the  first  time.  Hitherto  we  had  known  little  of  each  other; 
but  now  this  interchange  of  thought  and  history  brought  us  close  together, 
and  caused  the  hours  to  pass  very  much  more  pleasantly.  We  talked  of 
future  plans  when  we  should  be  released  from  this  place.  We  permitted 
no  one  to  get  down-spirited.  Had  we  been  confined  in  solitude,  the  dread 


Gleams  of  Hope.  229 

and  foreboding  would  have  been  more  terrible.  But  we  made  a league 
against  fear  and  fretting. 

Every  precaution  was  taken  to  preserve  our  health,  that  we  might  be 
able  when  there  came  a chance  for  escape.  No  one  was  allowed  to  stand 
so  as  to  obstruct  the  ventilation  through  the  wall-holes;  the  exercise 
possible  in  such  a limited  space  was  taken;  and  the  help  and  good  will  of 
all  was  a wonderful  relief;  but  we  needed  every  possible  support. 

Soon  there  came  a diversion  which  enlivened  our  conversation  by  giv- 
ing us  new  themes,  and  secured  for  some  a brief  relief  from  the  Hole,^' 
but  which  brought  the  deepest  fear  with  it. 

Andrews,  our  leader,  was  summoned  for  trial.  He  procured  aj)le  law- 
yers, who  interposed  all  possible  objections,  and  succeeded  in  securing 
considerable  delay.  Indeed,  in  all  the  proceedings  there  was  a slowness 
and  apparent  hesitation  which  bore  striking  testimony  to  the  importance 
they  attributed  to  him. 

When  all  of  our  party  were  brought  into  the  prison  we  carefully  re- 
viewed the  situation  and  ascertained  how  much  the  enemy  had  learned  in 
regard  to  us.  Most  had  already  given  names  and  regiments,  and  had 
claimed  to  be  American  soldiers.  Nothing  could  be  gained,  therefore,  by 
denying  what  we  had  done,  or  our  true  character.  The  first  could  be 
proved  by  those  who  saw  us  on  the  train,  by  our  captors,  or  by  our  own 
admissions;  the  latter,  so  far  from  wishing  to  deny,  was  our  only  possible 
defense.  To  Geo.  D.  Wils'on  and  myself  fell  the  main  task  of  outlining 
our  defense  and  drilling  all  the  party  into  it.  There  was  no  difference  of 
opinion  as  to  what  was  best.  It  was  only  important  that  we  should  all 
tell  consistent  stories.  We  therefore  resolved  that  we  would  say,  when 
examined,  that  we  had  been  appointed  by  our  officers  to  serve  under  a 
man  whom  we  had  never  seen,  but  whom  we  supposed  to  be  an  officer 
from  some  other  regiment  or  brigade;  that  the  nature  of  our  service  was 
not  clearly  made  known  to  us  further  than  that  it  was  to  destroy  some  line 
of  communications  in  the  enemy’s  country;  that  we  were  in  citizen^s 
clothing  only  that  we  might  not  alarm  the  citizens  among  whom  we  were 
to  travel;  that  we  did  not  see  any  pickets  of  the  enemy  or  pass  them  at 
any  point;  that  we  were  in  no  camp;  that  we  supposed  our  expedition  to 
be  within  the  rules  of  war  and  ourselves  entitled  to  protection  as  prisoners 
of  war;  that  we  had  obeyed  Andrews  as  we  considered  ourselves  bound  in 
duty  to  do;  and  that  if  we  made  false  representations,  it  was  only  what  we 
were  led  to  do  by  fear  of  discovery.  We  were  not  to  say  anything  about 
Campbell  being  only  a citizen;  and  were  to  refuse  under  all  circumstances 
to  tell  who  our  engineer  was.  It  is  by  no  means  certain  that  the  enemy 
would  have  dealt  any  more  severely  with  the  engineer  than  with  others, 
had  they  ascertained  that  he  was  merely  a soldier.  But  we  could  not 
know  this,  and  judged  from  the  persistency  with  which  they  sought  to 


230  Darhig  and  Suffering, 

discover  him  (for  another  purpose),  that  his  fate  would  be  sealed  as  soon 
as  he  was  known. 

Admitting  that  we  were  under  the  orders  of  Andrews  would  not  in  the 
least  embarrass  him,  for  this  much  could  be  proved  from  what  he  was  ac- 
tually seen  to  do  on  the  train;  and  he  had  already  declared  as  much  when 
captured.  But  we  never  revealed  anything  that  would  throw  light  on  his 
employment  as  a spy  in  our  service.  The  story  which  we  thus  planned  to 
tell  was  so  closely  adhered  to  that  the  enemy  never  learned  that  we  were 
volunteers  and  intelligent  participants  in  the  enterprise. 

All  were  examined  at  least  once,  either  on  being  brought  into  prison 
or  afterward.  My  own  ordeal  was  more  protracted,  probably  because  I 
had  been  the  first  brought  before  the  commanding  General,  and  also  be- 
cause I had  been  very  willing  to  communicate  what  I knew — up  to  a cer- 
tain point. 

Wilson  and  Wood,  in  a narrative  published  in  the  Key  West,  Florida, 
New  Era^  Nov.  15th,  1862,  when  they  had  reached  that  place  on  their  way 
home  from  prison,  and  while  many  of  us  were  still  in  the  enemy’s  power, 
used  the  following  language: 

“ A court-martial  was  ordered  for  Andrews,  and  Pittenger  of  the  2d  Ohio  was  taken 
out  as  a witness  ; and  by  alternate  offers  of  pardon  and  persecution  they  endeavored  to 
make  him  testify  against  him,  but  he  was  true  to  his  word  and  his  companions,  and  the 
court  could  gain  nothing  from  him.’' 

The  effort  to  gain  additional  information  was  less  simple  and  more 
protracted  than  is  here  indicated.  The  ladder  was  thrust  down,  and  I 
was  called  out.  I went  through  the  street  once  more,  still  wearing  my 
handcuffs  07i  both  hands^  attended  by  eight  guards,  and  was  brought  before 
an  officer,  I presumed  either  the  Judge  Advocate  or  the  President  of  the 
court  martial.  Here  I was  told  that  they  wanted  to  learn  several  things, 
among  others,  the  name  of  our  engineer,  who  were  engaged  in  this  affair, 
and  the  relation  that  the  man  Andrews  bore  to  us  and  to  the  army.  The 
officer  said  that  he  thought  I could  tell  if  I wanted  to;  and  that  if  I did,  I 
need  have  no  fear  of  any  prosecution  for  myself.  It  would  have  been 
easy  to  refuse  to  say  anything,  but  I thought  it  better  to  answer,  Every- 
thing that  concerns  me  alone,  I will  tell  you  freely,  as  I want  you  to  know 
that  I am  an  American  soldier,  and  that  I have  done  my  simple  duty; 
but  I will  not  tell  you  any  thing  that  might  tend  to  injure  my  companions.  ” 

He  answered  that  he  could  promise  me  nothing  unless  I would  tell  all 
I knew.  I said  that  I asked  no  promise,  believing  that  when  they  under- 
stood the  case  they  would  only  hold  us  all  as  prisoners  of  war.  He  said 
that  this  was  very  probable,  but  that  he  would  have  me  separated  from  my 
tompanions  and  see  me  again  in  a day  or  two. 

Accordingly  when  taken  back  1 was  not  put  in  the  jail  but  kept  in  the 


Gleams  of  Hope, 


231 


yard  outside  under  the  charge  of  six  guards,  who  stood  by  me  day  and 
night  in  regular  reliefs  of  two  at  a time,  with  orders  not  to  let  me,  on  any 
account,  speak  with  those  inside — which  could  have  been  done  only 
through  the  front  window-hole.  How  foolish  they  would  have  felt  had 
they  known  that  for  days  previously  Wilson  and  I had  been  drilling  the 
others  just  in  view  of  making  our  stories  harmonize  ! There  was  no  need 
of  any  further  communication.  One  of  the  guard,  however,  with  possibly 
a little  Union  sentiment  or  humane  feeling  in  his  veins,  did  tell  my  com- 
rades just  what  I had  said  to  the  officer,  and  thus  relieved  any  uneasiness 
they  may  have  had, — -though  they  had  little. 

The  relief  to  me  in  this  open-air  confinement  was  indescribable;  yet 
at  night  it  was  chilly,  and  I induced  the  officer  in  charge  to  let  me  lie 
down  in  Swims*  kitchen.  The  next  forenoon  I saw  the  old  jailer  engaged 
in  reading  a paper  that  seemed  to  interest  him  very  much.  I wanted  news 
also,  but  as  he  was  sober,  it  was  useless  to  question  him.  Waiting  till  he 
laid  the  paper  down  on  the  window-sil],  I edged  up  to  it,  and  by  a quick 
motion  of  my  manacled  hands,  I slipped  it  into  my  bosom.  The  guard 
saw  nothing.  I glanced  at  it  and  beheld — it  was  wonderful  that  I should 
get  just  this  paper — a full  account  of  our  expedition,  occupying  a whole 
page,  with  many  other  interesting  items.*  It  was  too  valuable  to  be  lost. 
I had  expected  that  it  would  soon  be  snatched  from  me,  but  had  hoped  to 
secure  the  news  first.  Now  I was  determined  to  save  it.  I sauntered 
about  the  yard, — the  guard  did  not  oppose  my  walking  about  if  I did  not 
go  near  the  fence  or  the  hole  in  the  dungeon  wall — but  as  soon  as  I got 
close  to  the  latter,  I walked  straight  to  it.  A dozen  eager  questions  were 
asked,  but  I knew  my  time  was  short,  so  I said.  Take  this,*^  and  shoved 
the  paper  through  the  triple  bars.  It  was  seized  instantly,  and, — I have 
that  paper  now,  twenty-five  years  after — a most  precious  relic  ! Then  I 
told  them  that  I was  doing  well,  and  that  there  were  rumors  of  Mitchehs 
advance.  This  I had  heard  as  I did  many  other  things,  from  the  guards. 
I asked  them  if  all  were  well  inside;  but  before  an  answer  was  given,  I heard 
a sharp  order,  “ Come  away  from  there!  and  the  sergeant  of  the  guard, 
a tall  Georgian  who  had  been  rather  pleasant  to  me,  was  running  up,  white 
with  passion,  and  the  two  guards,  who  had  been  seated  on  the  door  step, 
were  also  coming  with  fixed  bayonets.  He  upbraided  them  for  their  neglect 
of  duty,  and  then  scolded  me,  winding  up  by  telling  them  that  if  they 
saw  me  within  ten  feet  of  that  place  again,  he  wanted  them  to  shoot  me 
down  without  call  or  warning.  I took  this  patiently,  for  I had  accom- 
plished my  purpose.  Soon  after  the  jailer  missed  his  paper,  and  there 
was  a great  search,  from  which  I was  not  exempt,  but  all  in  vain. 

While  thus  kept  in  the  jail-yard  I borrowed — either  from  Mrs.  Swims 


* This  article  is  given  in  Supplement,  Chap.  V, 


232 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


or  one  of  the  sentinels — a small  copy  of  the  New  Testament.  I had  often 
read  and  studied  it  at  home  and  in  Sunday-School,  but  now,  when  turning 
the  leaves  with  ironed  hands,  it  read  like  a new  book.  I found  an  intensely 
practical  meaning  I had  never  dreamed  of.  It  took  but  a little  .while  to 
read  from  beginning  to  end  with  an  attention  which  often  made  me  forget 
guards  and  chains.  Amid  the  doleful  scenes  and  memories  of  that  fear- 
ful prison  this  precious  reading  was  a sweet  oasis,  and  was  not  without 
result  afterwards. 

When  taken  before  the  officers  again,  I told  my  story  in  just  the  lines 
we  had  laid  down,  which  made  us  simply  detailed  soldiers  acting  under 
orders.  They  questioned  and  examined  a good  deal.  I refused,  directly, 
to  name  the  engineer,  and  varied  from  the  truth  in  other  matters  just  as 
far  as  I judged  it  expedient.  At  length  I overheard  one  of  the  officers  say 
to  another,  in  effect,  ‘'It  is  no  use.  He  is  either  ignorant,  or  too  sharp 
to  tell  us  anything  we  want  to  know.  ''  Then  I was  informed  that  if  I 
did  not  know  anything  more  I would  have  to  be  put  back  with  my  com- 
panions. I said,  “As  you  will;”  and  soon  found  myself  in  the  “hole” 
again,  where  I received  a warm,  welcome.  I did  not  like  the  place,  but 
was  glad  of  the  company. 

None  of  us  knew  just  the  line  of  defense  taken  by  Andrews  or  upon 
what  he  based  the  hopes  he  did,  certainly,  to  some  extent,  entertain. 
While  all  his  money  had  been  taken  from  him,  he  was  still  believed  to  be 
able  to  command  it  from  outside  sources,  or  could  make  promises  which 
were  believed.  He  was  charged  with  spying  and  treason.  The  line  of 
defense  as  below  indicated  I have  gathered  from  scattered  hints,  from  his 
Flemingsburg  letter,  and  from  his  own  last  informal  declarations.  He 
seems  to  have  sought  to  make  the  work  that  he  did  appear  as  small  as 
possible,  and  his  own  motive  to  be  only  money-making,  with  resulting 
benefits  to  the  South  far  greater  than  the  loss.  What  follows  is  built  upon 
scattered  hints,  and  is  therefore  offered  with  no  small  degree  of  diffidence, 
yet  comprises  the  only  theory  that  seems  to  meet  the  facts. 

He  was  known  to  the  Southerners  as  a blockade-runner.  This  trade, 
if  he  could  only  persuade  the  Federals  to  permit  it,  was  of  great  advantage 
to  the  Confederates.  He  might  afford  to  do  a good  deal  for  the  Federals 
and  the  balance  of  advantage  be  still  on  the  Confederate  side.  Now  he 
claimed  that  he  was  offered  by  General  Mitchel,  who  greatly  wanted  an 
engine,  the  privilege  of  trading  South  to  the  extent  of  five  thousand 
dollars  per  month  as  long  as  the  war  lasted,  on  the  simple  condition  that  he 
would  seize  an  engine  and  carry  it  through,  he  Mitchel  supplying  the  men 
for  the  enterprise.  Andrews  did  disclaim  to  the  enemy  that  he  intended 
to  burn  any  bridges,  or  do  any  harm  beyond  the  comparatively  trifling  one 
of  carrying  off  this  engine.  In  harmony  with  the  same  line  of  defense  he 
tried  to  make  himself  appear  very  ignorant,  and  in  letters  intended  for 


Gleams  of  Hope, 


233 


their  eye,  the  spelling  is  fearfully  bad — so  bad  that  it  looks  as  if  he  over- 
did his  part.  As  a help  to  the  men  who  were  under  him,  Andrews  declared 
his  belief  that  they  were  all  detailed  without  their  previous  consent^  and 
that  they  knew  nothing  about  what  was  to  be  done,  but  that  Mitchel  simply 
sent  them  to  carry  off  the  engine.  He  summoned  his  old  partner, 
Mr.  Whiteman,  to  prove  that  he  was  a blockade-runner,  and  that  this  was 
his  real  business.  He  was  greatly  dissatisfied  with  the  conduct  of 
Mr.  Whiteman  on  the  trial,  thinking  that  he  received  far  more  injury  than 
good  from  him. 

The  defense  was  but  feeble,  though  it  was  possibly  as  good  as  could 
be  made  under  the  circumstances.  But  the  enemy  had  no  notion  that  a 
Federal  General  like  Mitchel  would  send  his  men  away  down  to  the  heart 
of  Georgia  for  an  engine,  when,  as  experience  showed,  he  had  been  able  to 
get  them  by  the  score  in  Kentucky  and  Alabama.  The  car  left  burning 
on  the  bridge,  and  the  admissions  of  the  men  who  were  first  captured  as  to 
their  intentions  of  bridge-burning,  also  tended  to  discredit  the  idea  that 
the  running  of  the  engine  through  was  the  only  object.  Neither  would 
the  Confederates  easily  believe  that  the  Federals  would  permanently 
establish  so  large  a contraband  trade.  The  facts  were  that  Andrews  had 
gained  their  confidence,  and  they  had  admitted  him  into  their  midst  to 
travel  and  enrich  himself  as  their  trusted  ally;  when  suddenly  they  found 
him  at  the  head  of  the  most  daring  enterprise  the  enemy  had  yet  under- 
taken. He  could  not  now  turn  around,  even  with  his  marvellous  adroitness, 
and  unsurpassed  powers  of  deception,  and  make  them  believe  that  the 
enterprise  after  all  was  but  a little  affair,  and  was  intended  as  the  means 
of  deceiving  the  Federals  only  the  more  completely.  He  had  played  back 
and  forth  once  too  often;  and  their  enmity  now  was  in  proportion  to  their 
former  confidence. 

But  it  is  possible  that  Andrews  did  not  look  for  an  acquittal,  only 
wishing  to  interpose  delays  in  the  hope  of  a Federal  advance,  or  of  find- 
ing an  opportunity  to  escape.  With  a man  of  his  boundless  fertility  of 
resources,  each  day  brings  new  possibilities.  During  the  trial  the  trap 
door  was  opened  several  times,  extra,  each  day,  which  was  no  small  gain 
and  three  or  four  days  were  occupied  before  the  end  was  reached. 

The  Atlanta  Southern  Confederacy^  of  April  26th,  thus  notices  the 
result. 

“We  learn  that  the  court-martial  at  Chattanooga  have  completed  the  trial  of  the  ring- 
leader of  the  bridge-burning  party.  Their  decision  in  the  case  will  not  be  made  public, 
however,  till  their  finding  is  approved  by  the  Secretary  of  War.  We  learn  that  no  more 
of  them  will  be  put  on  trial  till  this  decision  is  passed  upon. 

“ This  leader  of  the  party  is  named  Andrews,  and  is  said  to  be  a partner  in  a well- 
known  firm  in  Nashville,  and  had  not  heretofore  been  suspected  of  hostility  to  the  South. 
He  was  hired  by  the  Lincoln  authorities  to  burn  the  State  bridges,  and,  if  possible,  to 


234 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


bring  through  to  them  an  engine.  Those  accompanying  him  belonged  to  the  army,  and 
had  been  detailed  to  do  the  work.” 

The  closing  paragraph  of  the  report  is  hard  to  understand,  even  allow- 
ing for  the  usual  latitude  of  misinformation.  No  member  of  our  party  was 
from  Kentucky  except  Campbell,  who  carefully  concealed  the  fact.  It 
may  be  simply  a reminiscence  of  our  Kentucky  pretensions.  Andrews 
himself  had  been  a member  of  the  Kentucky  State-Guard;  but  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  would  give  that  as  a reason  for  being  in  the  Union  service. 
The  paper  says: 

“We  are  informed  that  the  one  who  turned  State’s  evidence  against  them  is  a Ken- 
tuckian. He  said  he  w’as  one  of  the  State  Guard  in  the  days  when  neutrality  was  in  vogue  ; 
that  he  was  entrapped . into  the  service  by  belonging  to  this  State  Guard  and  accepting 
arms  from  the  Yankee  Government  before  the  Yankees  came  into  the  State,  and  was 
unable  afterwards  to  get  out  of  the  service  ; that  he  was  always  friendly  to  the  South,  and 
that  it  was  always  his  determination  to  fight  for  the  South  if  forced  to  take  any  side  ; but 
that  neutrality  and  the  State  Guard  had  deceived  him  as  it  had  thousands  of  others. 
Before  he  was  fully  aware  of  the  fact,  he  was  in  the  Lincoln  army  and  could  not  escape 
from  it.” 

On  the  28th  of  April,  orders* *  were  sent  to  General  Leadbetter  in 
which  E.  Kirby  Smith  directs  “that  the  spies  be  tried  at  once.  **  The 
instructions  from  Richmond  referred  to  above  had  no  doubt  been  received. 
No  sentence  had  yet  been  awarded  Andrews,  who  remained  in  prison  with 
us,  just  as  before  trial.  But  other  elements  outside  of  Confederate  bounds 
entered  into  our  fate.  I'here  is  little  doubt  that  if  these  trials  had  pro- 
ceeded while  in  hot  blood  we  would  all  have  died. 

On  April  26th,  the  Union  Government,  through  Gen.  Wool,  then  Com- 
missioner of  Exchange,  notifies  “the  Insurgents”  that  our  forces  hold 
many  more  persons  who  are  liable  to  be  put  to  death  as  spies  than  the 
Confederates  do;  and  that  while  no  one  has  yet  suffered  the  extreme 
penalty  on  the  Union  side,  this  forbearance  cannot  be  counted  on  in  case 
the  work  of  death  is  begun. ""  It  is  probable  that  the  great  delay  and 
great  care  in  publishing  sentences  arose  from  this  cause.  The  reason  for 
suspending  the  trials,  however,  was  nearer  at  hand.  On  the  very  day 
this  order  was  given,  Gen.  Mitchel  had  advanced  as  far  as  Stevenson,  and 
was  cutting  out  work  for  the  Chattanooga  rebels  which  rendered  any  fur- 
ther court-martialing  for  the  time  out  of  the  question. 


* War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  461. 

* War  Records,  Series  III. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


GENERAL  MITCHEL  SAVES  THE  RAIDERS. 

I THINK  I never  in  my  life  experienced  a sweeter  dream  than  in  the 
terrible  Swims  prison  a short  time  before  we  left  it.  I have  no 
superstitions  regarding  such  things,  but  a dream  that  nils  the  mind 
with  inspiration  and  hope  for  days  after  is  certainly  good,  no  matter  what 
it  may  be  held  to  signify 

We  had  been  talking  about  our  prospects,  and  differed,  as  usual,  some 
maintaining  that  it  was  our  duty  to  keep  in  good  heart,  for  there  was  hope 
even  yet.  J.  A.  Wilson,  Dorsey,  and  Mason  were  rather  disposed  to 
regard  hope  as  useless  and  deceptive.  They  thought  that  we  would  have 
to  die  at  any  rate,  and  the  sooner  we  passed  out  of  such  misery  the  better. 
When  the  discussion  grew  languid,  I tried  to  read  from  the  paper  obtained 
as  narrated  above, — a very  difficult  task,  for  the  light  was  but  faint  at 
noonday.  Then  I leaned  back  against  the  wall  and  sunk  into  dreams. 

I thought  I was  in  a mountain  country.  The  exceeding  purity  of  the 
air  and  sky  was  most  grateful.  The  wide  horizon  and  the  lovely  valleys 
made  me  feel  that  this  was  indeed  a beautiful  world.  For  a time  I knew 
not  where  I was;  but  I saw  great  snowy  peaks,  of  such  spotless,  dazzling 
whiteness,  that  it  was  glorious  to  look  upon  them;  and  then  it  came  to 
me,  ‘‘  This  is  East  Tennessee,  and  I am  not  far  from  Knoxville.'’  (I 
had  never  been  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  there  are  no  such  moun- 
tains in  reality,  as  I saw  in  my  dream.)  The  sky  over  the  peaks  was  of 
the  most  intense  blue,  and  the  purity  of  this  and  the  white  was  indescribable; 
my  soul  rejoiced  in  it.  I seemed  to  gaze  for  hours  on  this  beauty  and 
sublimity,  and  then — opened  my  eyes  and  found  that  I had  slept  but  a 
few  minutes  ! No  doubt  the  little,  dark,  dirty,  and  narrow  room  was  the 
cause  of  my  dream  by  the  law  of  opposites;  but  I found  myself  lifted  up 
in  spirit,  toward  the  altitude  of  the  mountains.  I could  not  believe  that 
we  would  be  left  to  perish  in  the  darkness  of  this  dungeon. 

While  we  were  passing  through  such  terrible  scenes,  how  did  those  fare 
whom  we  had  left  behind  ? In  the  camp  deep  anxiety  was  felt  in  our  behalf. 
When  we  did  not  return  at  the  appointed  time,  all  believed  we  had  perished. 
Every  prisoner  was  closely  questioned,  but  no  positive  tidings  could  be 
gained.  Even  Gen.  Mitchel  could  not  learn  where  we  were  confined,  or 


236  Daring  and  Suffering. 

whether  we  had  been  captured  at  all.  He  finally  declared  to  his  son, 
F.  A.  Mitchel,  that  all  of  us  had  been  hanged.  The  enemy  wished  ap- 
parently to  hide  the  knowledge  of  us,  probably  fearing  retaliation  on  the 
part  of  our  commander;  and  it  is  possible  that  this  was  the  reason  for  our 
confinement  in  the  tomb-like  Swims  prison,  from  which  no  word  could 
reach  any  one.  There  was  much  mourning  for  us  by  the  camp-fires,  and 
even  more  in  our  own  homes.  I have  sometimes  wondered  whether  the 
sufferings  endured  by  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  all  the  helpless  loved 
ones,  is  not  greater  than  that  felt  by  the  soldier.  Andrews’s  betrothed  in 
Flemingsburg  was  waiting  for  him  with  a suspense  in  which  her  life  was 
literally  bound  up.  Scott,  Slavens,  Buffum,  and  Mason  had  wives  to 
wonder  why  no  letters  came,  and  why  no  one  in  the  army  would  answer 
questions  about  them.  My  own  mother  said  long  afterward  that  for 
months  together  she  never  laid  down  her  sorrow  night  or  day;  in  sleep 
there  was  a vague  sense  of  trouble,  and  on  waking  a realization  in  a mo- 
ment that  something  was  wrong  even  before  the  heartache  became  distinct. 

On  the  28th  of  April,  Mitchel  ^ began  his  movement  toward  Bridge- 
port with  no  other  design,  than  to  force  back  the  enemy,  and  throw 
him  on  the  defensive,  while  securing  his  own  line  of  communications 
to  Stevenson.  He  would  gladly  have  advanced  to  Chattanooga,  and 
even  Knoxville,  had  a sufficient  force  been  given;  but  in  the  absence 
of  this,  it  was  best  by  a striking  demonstration  to  put  the  enemy  in 
fear.  On  the  29th  he  attacked  Bridgeport.  The  enemy  had  a consid- 
erable force  at  that  point,  but  as  usual  Mitchel  was  able  to  surprise  them 
completely.  This  he  accomplished  by  driving  in  their  pickets  on  the 
line  of  the  railroad,  making  the  impression  that  he  intended  to  advance 
in  that  direction,  and  then  suddenly  moved  across  the  country,  dragging 
two  pieces  of  artillery  by  hand.  There  was  slight  resistance,  and  the 
enemy’s  outpost  fled  in  the  direction  of  Jasper,  without  giving  any  warn- 
ingo  A little  incident  here  illustrates  the  readiness  of  resources  which 
always  distinguished  Mitchel.  His  meagre  column  was  moving  swiftly 
forward  to  the  surprise  of  the  enemy,  when  a formidable  obstacle  was 
encountered — a little  creek  or  gully,  a dozen  yards  across,  and  quite  deep. 
To  build  a bridge  would  not  take  long,  but  minutes  were  precious,  and 
the  noise  of  chopping  and  other  work  would  be  sure  to  alarm  the  enemy. 
Something  must  be  done  to  get  the  cannon  over.  The  infantry  was  moved 
up  to  a line  of  fence  and  the  command  given,  “ Let  every  man  take  a 
rail.”  It  was  done  in  an  instant,  and  all  marched  by  the  gap,  the  rails 
were  thrown  in,  and  the  line  counter-marched  into  place  again,  Mitchel 
saying  to  them  as  they  passed,  “ Quick  and  silent,  my  brave  boys  ! We’re 


^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  pages  655,  656.  Report  of  Gen.  Mitchel, 
April  29th,  and  of  Gen.  Leadbetter,  May  5th,  1862, 


General  Mitchel  Saves  the  Raiders, 


237 


within  a squirrel’s  jump  of  them!”  It  was  done  with  such  swiftness  that 
there  was  scarcely  a perceptible  check  in  the  advance,  and  the  enemy^ 
opened  upon  with  cannon  and  musketry  from  an  unexpected  quarter,  did 
not  stay  to  try  conclusions,  but  fled  precipitately. 

As  they  passed  the  great  Tennessee  West  bridge  from  the  island  to 
the  main  shore,  they  made  an  attempt  to  blow  it  up,  and  not  succeeding 
in  doing  any  great  injury,  they  next  tried  to  burn  it.  Volunteers  were 
called  for  from  the  2nd  Ohio  (my  regiment),  and  Captain  Sarratt  leading, 
they  rushed  on  foot  through  the  smoke  over  the  burning  structure,  reached 
the  island  and  put  out  the  fire,  thus  saving  the  most  important  part  of  the 
bridge.  Some  very  important  captures  resulted,  among  others  some  of 
the  men  who  had  been  guarding  us  but  a few  days  before,  so  that  some 
information  of  us  did  reach  the  Federal  army. 

Captain  Sarratt  heard  a voice  calling,  “ Don’t  fire  on  me;  I’m  coming 
over;^’  and  immediately  saw  a soldier  running  out  on  the  bridge  from 
the  east  bank.  The  rebels  did  fire  on  him  from  their  side,  and  were  in 
turn  fired  upon  by  the  Second  Ohio  men.  The  fugitive  succeeded  in 
getting  safely  over  and  proved  to  be  one  of  our  original  band  who  had 
been  arrested  on  the  way  South  and  put  in  the  rebel  army.  His  com- 
panion was  arrested  while  trying  to  escape,  and  for  a time  was  confined 
in  the  upper  room  of  Swims  prison,  where  we  saw  him;  but  at  last  he  was 
returned  to  the  army,  and  got  safely  through  to  the  Union  lines. 

More  important  still  for  us,  a small  force  of  MitcheFs  did  advance  a 
considerable  distance  toward  Chattanooga,  causing  a great  panic  there. 
No  one  thought  of  court-martials  for  the  time  being.  Indeed  there  was 
fear  that  we  might  be  freed,  and  all  our  guards  made  prisoners.  Had 
Mitchel  known  how -small  a force  held  Chattanooga,  though  he  could  not 
then  have  maintained  the  place  against  Southern  reinforcements,  he  might 
by  a dash  have  saved  all  of  us,  Andrews  included,  and  wrought  great  dis- 
truction  of  rebel  property.  But  he  had  no  spy  like  Andrews  to  reveal  to 
him  the  exact  posture  of  affairs,  and  the  opportunity,  much  to  our  sorrow, 
was  lost. 

We  were  not  altogether  in  ignorance  as  to  what  was  going  forward. 
Our  guards  were  uneasy.  The  old  ones  were  taken  away  and  we  had 
entirely  new  faces.  Swims  got  considerably  intoxicated,  and  while  he 
was  lowering  our  scanty  breakfast  to  us  on  the  morning  of  the  thirtieth, 
he  held  his  white  head  over  the  trap  longer  than  usual,  and  drawled  out: 
“They  say  Mitchel  is  coming.”  We  ate  slowly,  encouraging  him  to 
talk,  and  managing  in  a little  while  to  get  out  of  him  about  all  he  knew 
in  regard  to  the  fight.  He  said  people  blamed  General  Leadbetter  for 
letting  Mitchel  get  the  better  of  him,  and  that  now  they  had  no  men  in 
the  town  able  to  defend  it.  All  this  was  glorious  news,  and  we  listened 
for  the  booming  of  cannon,  and  for  a time  we  heard  them,  though 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


238 

faintly.  We  would  have  been  glad  to  have  a few  shots  in  the  jail  yard  and 
were  even  willing  to  risk  one  or  two  in  the  old  jail  itself — enough  to  make 
a breach  in  the  walls  ! 


But  our  captors  had  no  intention  of  loosing  us.  Soon  the  trap-door 
was  opened  in  great  excitement  and  hurry,  and  we  were  all  called  up  the 


The  Raiders  Seated  in  the  Cars. 


ladder.  In  the  upper  room  our  irons  were  inspected,  and  new  fastenings 
added.  Then  we  marched  away  from  the  old  jail,  as  we  hoped  forever, 
and  on  through  the  town  to  the  depot,  where  we  waited  for  the  cars.  VVe 
understood  it  all.  But  we  knew  Mitchel’s  wonderful  speed  in  movement 
so  well  that  we  hoped  he  was  really  coming  to  Chattanooga,  and  would  get 
on  the  railroad  in  some  wav,  bc^’ore  we  could  be  run  further  south.  The 


General  Mite  he  I Saves  the  Raiders, 


239 


train  was  late,  and  we  had  no  wish  to  hurry  it.  To  simply  be  out  of  doors, 
in  the  free  air,  was  delicious.  AVe  lacked  the  vigor  of  three  weeks  before, 
but  were  rapidly  reviving.  Several  actually  staggered  from  weakness 
when  they  first  came  up  out  of  the  terrible  pit. 

The  cars  came  before  long  and  we  were  once  more  on  board  and 
moving  southward.  How  vividly  we  remembered  leaving  that  station  for 
our  first  journey  over  the  State  road!  It  was  now  the  first  of  May.  We 
had  looked  into  the  hollow  eyes  of  death  since  then;  but  were  now  enjoy- 
ing a short  respite,  and  could  afford  to  revel  in  the  beauty  of  the  outward 
world  ! 

O,  the  joy,  the  gladness  of  being  again  under  the  canopy  of  heaven, 
and  of  looking  up  to  its  unfathomable  depths  with  no  envious  bars  to 
obstruct  our  view  1 I have  often  looked  upon  romantic  scenery  in  May, 
but  never  have  I more  deeply  felt  that  this  is  a pleasant  world,  full  of 
beauty  and  goodness,  than  on  that  balmy  evening  when  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  streamed  over  the  grass  and  forests  in  their  path,  and  poured 
in  yellow  radiance  through  our  car  window.  But  a glance  at  the  guard 
with  his  musket  in  the  seat  beside  me  and  at  my  own  handcuffs  had  a 
sobering  influence  1 

Our  raid  had  not  been  forgotten,  and  as  it  became  known  that  we  were 
passing  along  the  road,  a m.ob  greeted  us  at  every  station.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  linger  upon  the  manner  in  which  they  accosted  us  or  the 
questions  they  asked.  Mobs  are  nearly  all  alike,  and  the  one  in  Atlanta 
will  answer  as  a specimen  of  the  others. 

There  was  a failure  of  railroad  connection  in  that  city,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  wait  from  very  early  in  the  morning  till  late  at  night.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  we  had  been  in  Atlanta,  and  our  visit  now  did  not  im- 
press us  in  its  favor.  Little  did  we  think  of  the  awful  and  hallowed 
memories  it  would  soon  bear  for  us  1 

But  the  mob  which  now  gathered  was  fierce  and  bloodthirsty — deter- 
mined to  hang  us.  Our  guards  were  equally  determined  to  prevent.  As 
soldiers  they  wished  to  fulfill  their  trust,  and  in  addition,  had  been  with 
us  long  enough  to  imbibe  some  kindly  feeling.  Several  persons  were 
severely  injured  in  the  strife,  but  the  guard  prevailed.  While  the  dis- 
turbance was  at  its  height,  a man  seemingly  as  rude  as  any  of  the  others 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  window,  and,  watching  his  opportunity,  he 
slipped  a paper  into  my  hands  with  the  single  magic  word,  “ A friend  ! 
There  was  glorious  news  in  the  paper — nothing  less  than  the  capture  of 
New  Orleans  ! For  a time  private  sorrow  and  danger  were  forgotten  in  the 
exhilaration  of  national  triumph. 

The  cause  of  secession  at  this  time  was  far  from  bright.  I took 
pleasure  in  talking  with  the  officer  in  charge  of  us,  and  others  who  were 
intelligent,  and  found  them  discouraged.  They  would  not  knowingly 


240 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


give  us  information,  or  let  us  have  papers;  but  by  pretending  to  know 
we  were  often  able  to  splice  out  our  slender  information.  The  officer 
admitted  that  McClellan  was  moving  with  an  overwhelming  army  on 
Richmond,  and  that  they  had  no  force  adequate  to  resist  him.  Every- 
thing looked  bright  for  the  Union  cause,  and  our  only  uneasiness  was  / 
whether  we  would  live  long  enough  to  enjoy  its  final  triumph 

Our  old  friend,  the  Atlanta  Southern  Confederacy^  the  next  morning 
(May  3rd)  thus  spoke  of  our  passage  through  the  town: 

“ The  Engine  1'hieves. — These  notorious  individuals  arrived  here  yesterday 
morning  on  the  train  from  Chattanooga.  The  leader,  Andrews,  has  often  been  in  our 
reading-room  during  his  peregrinations  in  the  Confederate  States  since  the  fall  of  Nashville. 

“Before  that  time  he  was  engaged  in  running  the  blockade,  bringing  articles  of 
necessity  for  merchants,  manufacturers,  etc.,  from  Cincinnati,  Louisville,  and  other  points 
in  the  enemies’  domain.  He  made  it  a business,  and  was  quite  successful  in  it,  and  he 
retained  the  confidence  of  our  people  in  Nashville,  where  he  resided  while  so  engaged. 

“The  other  prisoners,  his  compeers  in  the  attempt  to  burn  the  bridges,  are  all  sharp, 
intelligent-looking  men,  no  hard-looking  cases  like  Yankee  prisoners  and  East  Tennessee 
Tories  usually  are.  We  learn  they  will  be  sent  to  Milledgeville  for  confinement.” 

The  last  statement  was  a mistake,  for  we  were  taken  to  Madison,  where 
some  six  hundred  Federal  prisoners  were  confined,  and  we  indulged  the 
hope  that  we  might  be  put  with  them;  but  we  soon  found  that  the  brand 
of  criminality  was  not  yet  effaced.  We  passed  the  dilapidated  cotton 
factory  where  our  soldiers  were  kept,  and  on  to  the  old  county  prison  which 
was  then  unoccupied.  It  was  a gloomy  stone  building  with  two  rooms, 
but  they  were  both  above  ground,  and  had  doors.  The  party  was  divided 
between  the  rooms.  The  heavy  stone  walls  rendered  it  quite  damp,  and 
it  would  have  seemed  a forlorn  place  had  it  not  been  for  experiences  in 
Chattanooga.  But  we  were  away  from  Leadbetter,  and  our  captain  talked 
with  us  and  showed  us  kindness,  though  he  did  not  dare  to  take  off  our 
irons. 

As  a rule  we  had  the  most  perfect  harmony  in  our  own  company;  but 
sometimes  there  was  a slight  ripple  on  the  current  which  did  not  last  long. 
Dorsey  sends  me  the  following  incident  which  occurred  to  himself  and  his 
chain-mate  in  the  upper  room* 

“ Porter  and  myself  fell  out  and  tried  to  fight.  All  were  engaged  in  an  argument — a 
very  common  thing.  Porter  wished  to  cross  the  room,  and  being  in  a hurry,  rose  to  go. 

I was  interested  in  the  argument,  and  did  not  move  off  at  once.  Porter  urged  me  to  rise, 
and  when  I still  lingered,  he  jerked  the  chain  on  my  neck.  (They  were  chained  by  the 
necks  as  well  as  handcuffed.)  I also  seized  the  chain  and  gave  a jerk.  There  was 
another  jerk  or  two  on  both  sides,  and  I sprang  to  my  feet  and  seized  Porter’s  end  of  the 
chain  around  his  neck,  and  began  to  twist  it  trying  to  choke  him!  He  retaliated.  This 
was  all  that  our  handcuffs  would  allow  us  to  do,  and  there  we  stood,  twisting  our  chains, 
and  unable  to  do  more.  The  other  boys  set  up  a laugh,  and  soon  shamed  us  out  of  it. 
We  liked  each  other  better  after  this  incident  than  before.” 


General  Mitchel  Saves  the  Raiders. 


241 


At  certain  hours  the  citizens  of  the  place  were  freely  admitted  to  see 
us^  and  ranged  themselves — always  in  the  presence  of  the  guard — along 
^ one  side  of  the  room  and  talked  over  the  topics  of  the  day.  They  ex- 
pressed great  admiration  for  us  and  what  they  were  pleased  to  call  our 
daring  exploit.  They  said  they  had  not  expected  such  things  from  the 
cowardly  Yankees. 

But  one  visitor  did  not  come  for  mere  curiosity.  He  was  dressed  in 
rebel  uniform  and  talked  about  as  any  others  would  have  done;  but  when 
all  had  gone,  Andrews  informed  us  that  he  had  recognized  in  him  a former 
^ acquaintance  and  a spy;  and  told  us  that  by  signs  he  had  made  known  to 
him  the  word  he  wished  carried  to  our  forces,  and  that  now  we  might 
depend  upon  our  situation  being  known.  We  could  scarcely  credit  this, 
but  soon  the  captain  of  the  guard,  who  came  to  bring  us  our  supper, 
confirmed  it  all  • 

He  said  that  a most  remarkable  occurrence  had  just  taken  place.  The 
I Provost  Marshal  had  learned  from  some  source  that  a Lincoln  spy  had 
been  in  the  town,  and  had  at  once  sent  a guard  to  seize  him.  He  was 
found  at  the  depot  just  as  the  cars  were  coming  in,  and  professed  to  be 
very  indignant  at  the  offer  to  arrest  him,  saying,  scornfully,  that  he 
had  papers  in  his  pocket  that  would  prove  his  character  anywhere.  A 
little  abashed,  they  released  their  hold  upon  him,  asking  for  the  papers. 
He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  as  if  searching  for  them,  and  fumbled  about 
’ till  he  noticed  that  the  train,  which  had  started,  had  got  under  a good 
degree  of  headway,  and  then,  when  it  was  just  possible  for  him  to  reach 
the  last  car,  he  flung  the  soldiers  aside,  arid  ran  for  it.  He  got  on  board, 
but  they  were  too  late,  and  as  there  was  no  telegraph  station  here,  they 
were  helpless. 

The  Confederates,  on  this,  stopped  all  our  visiting;  but  we  felt  sure 
^ that  news  of  us  would  directly  reach  our  own  lines,  which  was  far  more 
important.  In  this  we  were  disappointed — we  never  heard  from  the  spy 
again.  Whether  he  was  captured  somewhere  else,  .or  his  information  lost 
in  the  rush  and  hurry  of  other  events,  we  never  knew. 

Our  stay  in  Madison  was  only  three  days,  after  which  the  Confederates, 
relieved  of  the  fear  of  an  immediate  advance  on  the  part  of  Mitchel, 

^ ordered  us  back  to  Chattanooga.  Again  we  were  compelled  to  run 
the  gauntlet  of  insulting  and  jeering  mobs  that  marked  our  course  on 
the  Southward  journey.  We  travelled  in  rude  box-cars,  and  while 
wet  and  filthy,  these  were  not  half  so  hard  to  endure  as  the  thought 
of  going  back  to  our  old  quarters.  But  the  journey  was  rendered  easier 
by  the  fact  that  ever  since  leaving  Chattanooga  we  had  been  in  the  hands 
of  one  set  of  guards  commanded  by  Captain  Laws,  and  they  had  dis- 
^ covered  that  we  were  human  beings.  They  talked  freely  with  us,  and  did 
all  that  they  safely  could  to  render  our  condition  more  endurable.  One  re- 
16 


242 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


suit  of  this  was,  that  when  brought  back  to  Swims*  domain,  the  commander 
interceded  for  lis,  and  we  were  allowed  to  remain  in  the  upper  room — a 
priceless  indulgence.  The  poor  East  Tennesseeans,  however,  had  to  go 
below.  Our  hearts  bled  for  them,  but  they  were  only  fourteen  now,  some 
of  them  having  been  removed,  while  we  were  twenty-two.  This  room 
was  the  same  size  as  the  under  one,  but  it  had  three  windows  instead  of 
two,  and  these  much  larger — real  windows — with  only  one  row  of  bars, 
and  so  high  that  they  all  admitted  light  as  well  as  air.  We  could  see  over 
the  jail  fence  in  two  directions.  These  were  immeasurable  advantages, 
and  we  felt  deeply  grateful  to  Capt.  Laws  and  Col.  H.  L.  Claiborne  to 
whom  we  owed  them.  Yet  these  mitigations  were  only  comparative.  Our 
imprisonment  was  still  rigorous  beyond  anything  that  could  be  expected  in 
a civilized  country. 

It  was  amusing  to  see  the  exaggerated  caution  with  which  we  were 
guarded.  Even  when  below,  where  a man  unassisted  could  scarcely  have 
got  out  if  the  locks  had  all  been  taken  off,  the  jailor  never  raised  the  trap- 
door unprotected  by  a strong  guard.  Now  that  we  were  in  the  upper 
room,  their  vigilance  increased.  They  would  bring  a guard  up  into  the 
jailer^s  room,  which  opened  into  ours,  and  array  them  in  two  lines  with 
leveled  bayonets  before  our  door  was  unlocked.  At  the  same  time  the 
stairway  was  guarded,  and  a strong  guard  in  a circle  always  walked  their 
beats  clear  around  the  prison.  We  were  all  this  time  closely  chained  ! 
Yet  Swims  would  grumble  and  predict  some  great  trouble  from  showing 
the  Yankees  so  much  indulgence  ! How  such  things  provoked  us  to 
make  an  effort  to  break  out  ! 

But  this  wearing  of  chains  so  long  seemed  useless.  Col.  Claiborne 
had  made  some  proposals  toward  relieving  us,  but  in  vain.  We  tried 
earlier,  and  with  better  success.  Knight  had  concealed  his  penknife  when 
searched,  by  putting  it  up  his  sleeve,  and  adroitly  turning  his  arm  as  they 
felt  for  concealed  articles.  Now  from  some  small  bones  in  our  meat  he 
made  keys  which  unlocked  the  handcuffs.  With  strings  and  hairs,  the 
padlocks  on  the  chains  had  been  opened  before.  We  were  given  a good 
deal  of  trouble,  for  these  fastenings  had  to  be  put  on  again  when  the  door 
was  opened.  The  outside  stairway  was  useful  as  a warning.  As  soon 
as  a foot  was  heard  on  it,  the  signal  would  be  given  and  there  was  rapid 
work  in  ‘Mocking  up.”  Had  we  been  detected,  there  would  have  been 
work  for  the  blacksmith  in  welding  us  fast,  and  the  dreaded  “hole” 
would  probably  have  again  received  us.  But  we  were  never  detected. 

Our  days  were  much  longer  and  more  pleasant  here  as  we  awoke  earlier 
'and  sought  out  more  employment  than  below.  Mock  trials  gave  us  much 
amusement.  We  needed  some  kind  of  government,  and  had  to  try,  and 
punish,  offenders.  Campbell  was  made  judge,  and  had  usually  the  sport 
of  carrying  out  his  own  sentences — a task  for  which  his  immense  strength 


General  MitcJiel  Saves  the  Raiders, 


243 


and  unfailing  good  humor  well  fitted  him.  The  opposing  counsel  made 
long  and  learned  speeches — so  eloquent  and  interesting  that  no  hearer  ever 
left  the  house  while  they  were  in  progress  ! 

A more  refined  enjoyment  was  found  in  singing.  Andrews  had  been  a 
music  teacher,  Ross  possessed  a voice  of  marvellous  sweetness,  and  several 
others  had  talents  above  the  average  in  this  direction.  Practicing  together, 
they  soon  acquired  great  proficiency.  Many  of  the  songs  were  of  a ten- 
der and  melancholy  cast,  such  as  “Twenty  years  ago,”  “Nettie  More/’ 
etc.  Three  of  these  songs  were  invariably  sung;  and  the  words  wake  an 
echo  out  of  the  past  more  powerfully  than  almost  anything  else.  The 
first  was  appropriate  to  us  all,  though  it  was  first  taught  by  Ross: 

“ Do  they  miss  me  at  home,  do  they  miss  me? 

’Twould  be  an  assurance  most  dear, 

To  know  at  this  moment  some  loved  one 
Were  saying,  I wish  he  were  here; 

To  feel  that  the  group  at  the  fireside 
Were  thinking  of  me  as  I roam. 

Oh  yes,  ’twould  be  joy  beyond  measure 
To  know  that  they  missed  me  at  home.” 

The  next  was  Ross’s  favorite  and  was  in  quite  a different  vein: 

“ Twas  in  a grove  I met  my  love, 

One  soft  and  balmy  night  ; 

I owned  my  flame,  she  did  the  same. 

And  trembled  with  delight. 

When  at  the  gate  we  parted  late, 

I blest  my  lucky  stars, 

And  stole  a kiss  to  seal  our  bliss 
Between  the  wicket  bars.” 

But  the  “ Carrier  Dove  was  contributed  by  Andrews  and  had  a mel- 
ancholy appropriateness  to  his  own  condition  which  often  brought  tears  to 
our  eyes.  We  knew  his  history  only  in  part  then,  but  could  not  help 
feeling  that  the  song  had  more  than  mere  melody  for  him.  He  was  always 
a little  reluctant  to  sing  it:  but  he  had  given  it  once  in  a sentimental  hour, 
and  we  could  hardly  be  satisfied  any  evening  afterward  without  hearing  it. 


“ Fly  away  to  my  native  land,  sweet  dove, 
Fly  away  to  my  native  land, 

And  bear  these  lines  to  my  lady  love. 
That  I’ve  traced  with  a feeble  hand. 
She  marvels  much  at  my  long  delay, 

A rumor  of  death  she  has  heard. 

Or  she  thinks,  perhaps,  I falsely  stray  ; 
Then  fly  to  her  bower,  sweet  bird  i 


244 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Oh,  fly  to  her  bower,  and  say,  the  chain 
Of  the  tyrant  is  o’er  me  now  ; 

That  I never  shall  mount  my  steed  again, 

With  helmet  upon  my  brow  ; 

No  friend  to  my  lattice  a solace  brings, 

Except  when  your  voice  is  heard,  / 

When  you  beat  the  bars  with  your  snowy  wings, 

Then  fly  to  her  bower,  sweet  bird  ! 

I shall  miss  thy  visit  at  dawn,  sweet  dove  ! 

I shall  miss  thy  visit  at  eve  ! 

But  bring  me  a line  from  my  lady  love. 

And  then  I shall  cease  to  grieve  ! 

I can  bear  in  a dungeon  to  waste  away  youth, 

I can  fall  by  the  conqueror’s  sword  ; 

But  I cannot  endure  she  should  doubt  my  truth  : 

Then  fly  to  her  bower,  sweet  bird  !’’ 

Our  special  time  for  singing  was  in  the  evening  twilight.  Some  one 
would  start  a ^ong  rather  feebly,  but  others  would  join,  and  then  for  hours 
in  the  gathering  darkness  song  after  song  would  pour  forth,  as  glad  and 
free  as  if  not  strained  through  prison  bars.  The  guards  liked  very  much 
to  hear  us  sing;  and  frequently  citizens  of  the  town  would  gather  outside 
of  the  jail  fence,  where  we  could  be  heard  with  perfect  distinctness,  to 
listen  to  the  “ caged  Yankees.^'  These  songs,  and  the  favorable  report  of 
all  the  guards  who  were  brought  into  contact  with  us,  caused  a sentiment 
in  our  favor  to  spread  rapidly  through  the  town.  This  probably  was  the 
reason  that  no  further  trials,  notwithstanding  the  order  of  Gen.  Smith 
already  quoted,  took  place  in  Chattanooga. 

We  soon  had  a better  opportunity  of  talking  with  our  guards,  and 
learning  a little  of  what  was  going  on  in  the  outside  world,  as  well  as  in- 
fluencing sentiment  more  directly.  When  Col.  Claiborne  first  visited  us 
as  Provost  Marshal,  he  said  boldly  that  it  was  a shame  and  disgrace  to 
keep  men  in  such  a condition.  After  vainly  asking  permission  to  remove 
our  irons,  he  gave  us,  on  his  own  authority,  another  wonderful  indulgence. 
He  ordered  us  brought  into  the  jail  yard  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  for  an 
hour  every  afternoon.  This  was  but  an  ordinary  precaution  in  the  case 
of  twenty-two  men  kept  in  a thirteen  feet  room,  while  warm  weather  was 
coming  on;  but  we  were  deeply  grateful.  We  could,  on  such  occasions, 
sometimes  talk  with  citizens  in  the  presence  of  the  guards,  and  gained 
much  interesting  information  from  the  guards  themselves.  Mrs.  Swims 
had  a very  different  spirit  from  her  husband,  and  did  give  a little  extra 
food  to  some  sick  prisoners,  for  which  they  cherished  great  gratitude. 
Another  lady  came  from  a large  mansion  on  what  was  called  “ Brabson's 
Hill,^^  a little  way  from  the  prison,  and  being  in  Swims*  kitchen,  was  per- 
mitted to  talk  to  Andrews,  expressing  great  compassion  for  him,  and 


General  Mitchel  Saves  the  Raiders, 


245 


afterward  sending  a few  gifts,  with  the  oermission  of  the  officer  of  the 
guard,  which  were  highly  prized. 

But  I was  much  more  interested  in  the  romantic  history  of  a colored 
man  named  Wm.  Lewis,  whose  house — a large  two-story  frame,  still  occu- 
pied by  him — was  in  plain  view  only  a square  away.  He  asked  permission 
to  send  us  some  lettuce,  of  which  he  had  a large  quantity,  and  this  formed 
quite  an  addition  to  our  slender  rations.  From  the  guard,  I learned  his 
story.  He  was  a slave,  but  being  an  expert  blacksmith,  had  purchased  his 
time  for  $350  a year.  He  was  soon  able  to  buy  his  wife  and  himself  at 
> $1,000  each.  Then  he  set  up  a shop,  hiring  other  hands,  and  bought  his  six- 

year-old  son  for  $400;  his  mother  and  aunt  for  $150  each,  as  they  were  old, 
came  next;  two  brothers  followed  for  $1000  each.  A slave  trader  bought  his 
sister  for  him  for  only  ^400 — the  best  bargain  he  had  made;  then  he  paid 
for  his  house,  and  laid  up  a large  amount  of  money  besides.  Such  a man 
is  a genuine  hero.  He  was  not  able  to  do  business  in  his  own  name,  un- 
j der  the  black  laws,  and  was  obliged  to  pay  a white  man  largely  to  legalize 
his  tranasctions.  When  he  saw  that  the  ruin  of  the  Confederacy  was  inevi- 
table he  purchased  tobacco  with  his  disposable  funds,  and,  storing  it,  was 
able  to  sell  at  a handsome  profit.  He  has  since  lived  with  the  esteem  of 
all  men,  and  presents  an  example  of  triumphing  over  difficulties  seldom 
equaled.  His  house  was  the  only  landmark  in  the  vicinity  of  the  old 
Swims  jail  which  I was  able  to  recognize  in  Chattanooga  twenty-five  years 
* after. 

Another  reason  for  the  greater  humanity  now  exhibited,  was  that 
the  word  had  gone  out  that  we  were  only  detailed  men  — not  volun- 
teers. All  of  our  number  had  told  this  story;  I had  especially  insisted 
on  it,  and  in  all  our  conversations  we  were  sure  to  make  it  prominent.  Of 
course  in  the  form  we  put  it  the  claim  was  false,  but  its  effects  were  the 
I same  Andrews,  who  had  nothing  to  gain  in  that  direction,  had  been 
careful  to  confirm  all  that  we  said,  and  it  was  accepted  as  truth,  that 
“those  poor  Yankees  were  sent  on  that  terrible  raid  without  being  told 
what  risks  they  ran.”  Of  course  our  officers  were  severely  blamed  for 
such  reckless  inhumanity  to  their  men;  but  this  did  not  hurt  the  officers, 
for  they  were  not  in  rebel  hands.  It  was  most  likely  this  strong  feeling 
^ running  in  our  favor,  to  which  Gen.  E.  Kirby  Smith  long  afterward  bore 
testimony,  that  led  Col.  Reynolds,"  President  of  the  Court  Martial,  to 
make  an  excuse  to  get  away  from  that  ungrateful  post  into  the  field. 

But  this  general  and  rising  tide  of  sympathy  in  our  behalf  produced 
what  seemed  to  some  of  us  one  disastrous  effect;  and  so  little  can  the 
results  of  events  be  foreseen  that  probably  less  friendliness  would  have 

saved  the  lives  of  many  of  our  number.  Our  best  hope  was  that  of  es- 

9 


" War  Records,  Vol.  X.,  Series  I.,  Part  i,  page  658. 


246  Daring  and  Suffering. 

caping  by  our  own  efforts  from  the  enemy’s  power  We  had  surmounted 
most  of  the  obstacles  to,  at  least,  a hopeful  attempt.  Our  irons  could  all 
be  off  whenever  we  desired,  and  would  make  formidable  weapons  in  close 
quarters;  we  were  no  longer  down  in  “the  hole^’^  and  could  meet  the 
enemy  on  almost  equal  terms.  Some  of  us  feared  that  good  wishes  of/ 
guards  and  citizens  would  not  avail  against  orders  from  the  central  power; 
and  that  at  any  rate  it  was  nobler  and  more  hopeful  to  take  our  fate  in 
our  own  hands,  and  strike  for  freedom. 

But  Ross  and  Geo.  D.  Wilson  had  great  hopes  from  what  officers  had 
said  to  them  of  an  early  exchange.  They  had  been  so  often  told  that  we 
would  be  held  as  soldiers  simply,  that  they  had  come  to  accept  it  as  un- 
doubted. They  pointed  to  our  increasing  indulgences  as  evidence  that 
the  malice  of  the  enemy  was  relaxing;  and  although  a force  of  twenty-six. 
men  was  constantly  on  duty,  whose  officers  imagined  they  were  keeping  on 
our  chains,  there  did  seem  to  be  some  reason  in  what  was  said.  Ross 
was  the  only  Freemason  of  the  party,  and  in  that  way  had  received  some 
trifling  favors,  and  was  confident  that  if  any  special  danger  threatened  us 
he  would  be  given  a hint.  But  we  finally  bore  down  all  opposition  to  at- 
tempting an  escape  by  one  argument  which  no  generous  mind  could  resist. 
It  was  that  Andrews  had  been  tried,  and  while  his  sentence  had  not  yet 
been  given,  it  was  sure  that  most  of  the  favorable  considerations  in  our 
behalf  did  not  exist  in  his  case.  It  was  our  duty  to  give  him  a chance,  as 
well  as  to  avail  ourselves  of  it.  Thus  after  some  delay  we  came  to  the 
conclusion  to  strike  for  liberty. 

Two  plans  were  proposed.  The  first,  which  I suggested,  had  at  least 
the  great  merit  that  it  could  be  tried  at  once.  Delays  are  always  dan- 
gerous, as  we  had  already  proved.  It  was  proposed  to  have  all  our  irons  off 
when  the  guards  came  up  with  our  supper,  and  then  making  a rush  upon 
the  leveled  bayonets  outside,  before  the  guards  had  recovered  from  their 
surprise,  to  have  them  disarmed,  and  then  to  pour  down  stairs  on  the  guard 
below.  When  they  had  been  secured  and  all  of  us  armed,  we  could  have 
“double  quicked^’to  the  river,  crossing  it  if  possible,  or  if  not,  into  the 
mountains  to  the  east  of  Chattanooga.  We  would  not  again  have  com- 
mitted the  error  of  scattering.  The  plan  was  not  more  difficult  than  the 
first  capture  of  the  train,  in  which  we  had  easily  succeeded;  and  was  cer- 
tainly under  more  favorable  circumstances  than  a similar  attempt  made 
afterward  which  had  a great  measure  of  success.  Of  the  first  rush,  I had 
no  fear  whatever.  It  would  have  been  sport  to  see  how  Campbell, 
Slavens,  Brown  and  Knight  would  have  handled  ordinary  men  in  a narrow 
room.  Muskets  would  have  been  of  no  avail  at  first,  and  before  the  sur- 
prise was  over,  we  should  have  had  more  than  the  enemy. 

This  plan  would  have  been  accepted  but  for  Andrews.  He  was  always 
disinclined  to  a fight,  if  the  same  object  could  be  attained  by  strategy. 


General  Mitchel  Saves  the  Raiders, 


247 


It  was  then  agreed,  on  his  suggestion,  that  when  we  were  being  brought 
in  from  our  breathing-time  in  the  yard,  Wollam  should  manage  to.  secrete 
himself  under  the  bed  in  Swims’  room  through  which  we  always  passed, 
and  remain  there  till  late  at  night;  then  come  out  and  open  the  door  from 
that  side,  and  let  us  out  to  proceed  as  in  the  first  plan.  My  objections 
to  this  were  the  risk  that  Wollam  would  run  of  detection  either  when  hid- 
ing, or  when  trying  to  open  the  door;  and  that  we  would  be  less  likely  to 
get  a number  of  guns  from  the  guard.  We  would  probably  be  pursued 
by  them  when  ourselves  unarmed;  and  it  also  required  us  to  wait  till  the 
,^night  promised  to  be  dark. 

While  waiting  there  was  great  talk  of  exchange,  Mitchel  had  captured 
a younger  brother  of  Gen.  Morgan,  but  his  own  son  had  been  taken  by 
that  chief,  and  now  they,  with  many  more  on  each  side,  were  to  be  ex- 
changed. A lieutenant  who  had  been  paroled  for  the  purpose  of  effecting 
the  exchange,  visited  us,  and  the  most  sanguine  hopes  were  raised  that  we 
might  be  included.  It  is  possible  that  if  our  authorities  had  known  of 
our  condition  and  had  made  a peremptory  demand,  backed  by  the  threat 
of  retaliation,  they  might  have  accomplished  this.  But  the  Confederate 
officers  told  us  that  we  must  first  have  a trial  to  show  that  we  were  soldiers. 
Andrews  had  proposed  to  send  a flag  of  truce  through  to  get  from  our 
officers  a statement  of  our  true  character;  but  they  refused,  saying  that 
they  credited  our  own  story,  and  did  not  need  to  go  to  so  much  trouble. 

Finally  we  fixed  the  night  when  we  would  again  test  our  fortune  by  a 
bold  effort  to  escape.  But  that  very  day  an  order  was  given  to  send 
twelve  of  us  to  Knoxville  for  trial.  For  some  reason  the  court  had  been 
carried  to  that  place,  or  the  trial  ordered  before  a new  court — probably 
the  former.  Geo.  D.  Wilson  was  sick,  and  down  in  the  yard  when  the 
order  came.  The  officer  of  the  guard  spoke  to  him  about  it,  saying  that 
it  would  no  doubt  be  a mere  formal  trial  preliminary  to  the  exchange,  and 
intended  to  make  sure  that  we  really  were  soldiers  as  we  claimed.  The 
officer  told  Wilson  that  he  might  select  twelve  to  go,  as  no  names  were 
mentioned.  Wilson  accepted  the  offer,  choosing  all  his  own  regiment,  the 
2nd  Ohio  first,  and  afterward  his  special  friends  from  the  other  regiments. 
The  officer  had  suggested  that  it  might  be  well  to  select  the  ablest  men,  who 
would  do  us  the  most  credit.  Wilson  had  no  fears  about  that;  but  he  did 
think  that  he  would  be  doing  those  chosen  a favor  by  making  their  ex- 
change the  more  probable  and  speedy.  But  it  was  a deadly  favor;  for  though 
he  knew  it  not,  there  was  every  probability  that  it  was  their  death  warrant! 

The  reason  for  thus  dividing  the  party  has  never  been  clearly  made 
known.  One  theory  is  that  the  enemy  simply  wanted  by  dividing  us,  to 
make  the  work  of  guarding  easier;  in  that  case,  after  the  first  lot  had  been 
tried,  the  other  would  also  have  been  sent  for.  But  I think  it  more  likely 
that  in  view  of  the  large  amount  of  sympathy  that  had  been  expressed  for 


248 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


us,  it  was  thought  best  to  spare  part,  and  only  condemn  a round  dozen — 
surely  enough  for  example  and  vengeance  ! If  so,  they  would  naturally 
wish  to  get  the  most  prominent  members  of  the  party;  and  knowing  how 
anxious  and  hopeful  Wilson  was  in  regard  to  an  exchange,  the  plan  was 
hit  on  of  making  him  unconsciously  select  the  men  to  die.  ^It  is  sure  in 
any  case  that  those  thus  selected  were  put  into  the  forefront  of  battle. 

This  separation  at  once  broke  up  the  plan  of  escape,  or  rather  forced 
its  modification,  for  though  feasible  with  twenty-two,  it  was  impracticable 
with  ten.  I have  little  doubt  that  some  of  us  would  have  escaped  if 
Wollam  had  once  got  the  door  open. 

The  news  of  the  departure  for  Knoxville  roused  a great  deal  of  excite- 
ment in  the  prison.  We  were  always  glad  to  move;  but  the  thought  of 
parting  was  painful,  for  we  knew  not  when  we  might  meet  again.  For 
six  weeks  we  had  been  companions  in  danger  and  privation;  and  in  spite 
of  fair  words,  we  knew  that  we  were  still  in  the  hands  of  those  enemies 
who  had  filled  our  country  with  blood,  and  whose  deadliest  vengeance 
hung  suspended  over  our  heads  by  a single  hair.  A deep  sadness  fell 
upon  us  which  was  abundantly  justified. 

With  Andrews  the  parting  was  peculiarly  affecting.  Fie  was  our  leader, 
and  we  had  been  accustomed  to  look  up  to  him  in  all  emergencies.  He 
was  specially  marked  for  vengeance;  officers  who  had  encouraged  us  had 
uttered  no  word  of  hope  for  him.  He  bore  this  like  a hero  as  he  was,  and 
continued  mild  and  cheerful  as  ever;  so  kind,  tender,  and  helpful,  in  the 
prison,  so  ready  to  sink  his  own  sorrow  in  comforting  others,  or  to  yield 
his  own  preferences, — there  was  such  a touch  of  sadness  in  his  low,  calm, 
thrilling  voice,  that  we  could  not  help  loving  him  with  an  affection  which 
the  lapse  of  years  has  not  dimmed.  It  would  not  have  been  hard  for  us 
to  die  for  him;  but  he  seemed  more  than  willing  to  reverse  this,  and  give 
his  life  if  it  could  have  availed  for  our  safety.  On  his  trial  he  had  not 
uttered  a word  which  could  shake  credit  in  the  story  upon  which  we  had 
risked  our  hopes,  though  it  provoked  the  question:  “ How  could  you  be 
so  cruel  as  to  lead  men  into  these  deadly  perils  without  giving  them  fair 
warning  of  the  consequence  ? ” He  had  been  tried.  It  was  probable  that 
the  decision  was  already  rendered,  and  that  it  was  death.  Separating  the 
party  rendered  us  less  able  to  strike  the  blow  that  the  enemy  might  anti- 
cipate from  our  ' known  affection,  in  case  of  a fatal  sentence.  We  had 
never  heard  Andrews  utter  a word  of  repining.  He  had  played  a fearful 
game  and  lost;  he  was  ready  if  need  be  to  pay  the  extreme  penalty.  One 
evening  after  we  had  ceased  to  sing,  and  had  been  silent  for  a time,  he 
said:  “Boys,  I have  often  thought  I would  like  to  see  what  is  on  the 
other  side  of  Jordan.'’  We  were  not  anxious,  or  at  least  not  in  haste,  for 
that  view,  and  the  subject  was  pursued  no  further  then.  But  now  he  re- 
curred to  the  same  word  again.  When  we  had  sung  our  songs  together 


General  Mite  he  I Saves  the  Raiders, 


249 


for  the  last  time,  the  twelve  came  to  bid  him  farewell.  I will  never 
forget  his  parting  words.  He  pressed  our  hands,  one  by  one,  before  we 
were  taken  out  of  our  room  for  the  Knoxville  journey,  and  with  a tear  in 
his  eye,  and  a low  clear  voice  that  had  no  tremor,  but  unutterable  tender- 
ness and  earnestness,  he  said,  “ Boys,  if  I never  see  you  here  again,  try 


“ Meet  me  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan.” 


to  meet  me  on  the  other  side  of  Jordan.”  It  was  our  last  earthly  meet- 
ing ! The  parting  from  our  nine  comrades  was  only  less  affecting,  and 
then  we  turned  our  faces  toward  Knoxville,  certain  that  “bonds  and  af- 
fliction awaited  us  there.  The  memory  of  my  beautiful  dream  did  some- 
how cheer  me  a little,  though  nothing  that  followed  could  make  it  seem 
like  a preternatural  intimation  of  good. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


/ 


A STRUGGLE  AGAINST  DESTINY. 

An  evening  dark  with  coming  storm  is  the  emblem  of  the  events  that 
soon  followed  our  departure.  The  ten  left  behind  had  much 
more  room  in  their  narrow  prison,  but  sadly  missed  us.  Their 
singing  was  less  full  in  volume  and  the  voice  of  Ross  left  a blank  that  no 
one  could  fill.  But  prison  life  passed  on  nearly  as  before  until  the  last 
day  of  May.  On  a warm  afternoon  when  the  prisoners  were  in  the  yard, 
resting  in  the  shadow  of  the  jail,  and  wondering  what  was  happening  to  us 
at  Knoxville,  an  unknown  officer  entered  the  gate  and  went  quickly  up  to 
Andrews;  without  a word  he  handed  him  a paper  contained  in  a large  en- 
velope, and  turning  away  walked  rapidly  out  of  the  yard.  Andrews  broke 
the  seal  and  glanced  at  it,  turning  pale  as  marble.  It  was  his  death  warra7it! 
All  who  saw  him  felt  that  some  tidings  of  evil  had  arrived,  and  the 
officer  of  the  guard  spoke  very  gently  as  he  told  them  that  it  was  now 
time  to  retire  to  their  room.  When  there,  Andrews  gave  his  comrades  the 
paper,  and  they  read  the  feafrul  intelligence.  In  one  week — June  7th 
— he  was  to  be  executed  by  hanging  ! This  was  Saturday,  and  on  the 
Saturday  following  he  was  to  die  ! 

'No  time  was  lost  in  useless  regrets.  All  of  our  comrades  resolved  to 
carry  out  the  plan  of  escape  which  was  their  leader^s  only  chance  of  life 
— probably  their  own  also.  Andrews  was  separated  from  them  the  same 
evening  and  put  down  into  “the  hole.”  There  was  a knife  in  the  party 
and  they  at  once  began  work.  On  Saturday  night  they  cut  into  the  plank 
overhead,  as  this  could  be  the  more  easily  concealed.  It  was  fearfully 
difficult.  One  man  stood  on  the  shoulders  of  two  others  who  leaned 
against  the  walls,  for  there  was  no  other  means  of  reaching  the  ceiling, 
and  carved  at  the  heavy  oak  plank  till  weary,  when  another  relay  of  three 
would  take  their  place.  The  cutting  was  not  very  noisy,  but  a little  shuf- 
fling about,  talking,  and  especially  singing,  effectually  drowned  it.  A 
piece  was  thus  worked  out  during  the  night  large  enough  to  admit  the  pas- 
sage of  a man’s  body  and  the  work  suspended  till  the  morning  and  after- 
noon visits  of  the  jailer  had  been  passed. 

After  they  had  returned  from  their  daily  airing  on  Sunday  they  went 
to  work  with  new  vigor.  Now  they  did  not  need  to  conceal  the  evidences 
of  their  work,  for  before  the  jailer  came  again  on  Monday  morning  they 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny. 


251 


meant  to  be  free.  They  knew  that  dangers  were  ahead,  but  the  thought 
of  liberty,  and  their  leader’s  life,  was  enough  to  inspire  them.  ’ They 
V worked  hard  and  sang  long  that  Sunday  evening.  Swims  afterward  said 
that  he  ought  to  have  known  that  something  was  the  matter  by  their  sing- 
ing so  mournfully  ! They  hoped  to  finish  all  that  was  to  be  done  by  mid- 
night; but  they  had  miscalculated  their  task. 

They  had  to  cut  the  lock  out  of  the  trap-door  in  order  to  bring 
Andrews  up  from  below;  then  to  pick  their  way  through  the  end  brick  wall 
above  the  ceiling,  slowly  and  carefully,  so  as  not  to  alarm  the  guard  outside. 
^ Their  garments  had  to  be  twisted  into  ropes  to  lift  Andrews  from  below 
and  the  last  of  themselves  up  to  the  ceiling,  as  well  as  to  make  a longer 
rope  for  the  perilous  descent  from  the  gabled  end  of  the  jail  to  the  ground 
outside. 

When  all  was  done  day  was  just  beginning  to  break  faintly  in  the  east. 
No  tjme  was  to  be  lost.  In  half  an  hour  it  would  be  so  light  as  to  render 
» their  escape  impossible.  They  were  all  in  the  loft  and  Andrews  was  given 
the  first  chance.  Of  course  all  fetters  had  been  removed.  The  rope  was 
passed  out,  and  Andrews  crawled  through,  and  in  a moment  was  swinging 
outside;  but  in  getting  out  he  happened  to  push  off  a loose  brick,  which 
fell  to  the  ground  and  gave  the  alarm.  The  nearest  guard  raised  his 
musket  and  fired  at  the  man  hanging  on  the  rope,  but  missed  his  aim. 
^ Andrews  had  his  boots  in  his  hand,  but,  in  the  excitement,  let  them  fall 
and  could  not  stop  to  pick  them  up.  He  afterwards  sorely  needed  them. 
But  in  his  stocking  feet,  he  flung  himself  over  the  fence,  and  through  the 
guard  line,  repeatedly  fired  at  but  unhurt.  John  Wollam  followed,  and 
while  he  was  in  the  air  he  was  fired  at  by  other  guards,  but  succeeded 
in  getting  out  of  the  yard  unhurt.  Those  who  had  failed  to  get  out, 
crawled  down  and  put  on  their  irons  again,  and  it  was  a great  mystery 

• how  the  two  men  alone  had  been  able  to  effect  their  escape. 

Wilson,  who  was  present,  very  graphically  describes  the  excitement  of 
the  escape  : 

“When  everything  was  in  readiness,  Andrews,  who  was  to  go  first,  went  up  in  the 
loft.  The  work  of  making  a hole  out  through  the  brick  wall  under  the  roof  was  a much 
more  difficult  job  than  we  had  expected,  and  proved  to  be  slow  work  with  our  case-knife. 

• It  had  to  be  done  too  without  noise.  We  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  out  brick  enough  to 
allow  a man  to  pass  out,  just  as  the  gray  streaks  of  dawn  began  to  show.  If  I remember 
correctly,  each  man  had  his  boots  or  shoes  off,  so  that  we  could  avoid  making  a noise.  We 
could  see  the  dim,  gray  form  of  the  sentry,  and  hear  his  tread  as  he  paced  back  and  forth. 
It  was  an  anxious  moment  of  suspense,  when  at  last,  in  a whisper,  word  was  passed  from  one 
to  the  other  in  the  dark  prison,  that  all  was  ready. 

“Andrews  crept  out  and  swung  down,  but  in  some  manner  a loose  brick  or  piece  of 
^ mortar  fell  to  the  ground  and  attracted  the  notice  of  the  sentry,  and  almost  instantly  we 
heard  the  report  of  a gun.  John  Wollam,  who  was  next  behind  Andrews,  paid  no  heed  to 


^ Adventures  of  ^ If , Wilson^  page  122.  Toledo,  1880. 


252 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  shot,  but  lunged  out  head  over  heels.  Bang  . oang  ! went  the  muskets,  and  there  was 
loud  shouting — 

‘‘‘Corporal  of  the  guard!  Post  number— Captain— Captain  of  the  guard!  Halt* 
Halt ! ^ 

“ Dorsey,  who  was  following  Wollam  through  the  hole,  halted  between  two  opinions, 
whether  he  had  better  jump  down  while  the  rebel  sentry  stood  beneath  holding  a cocked 


Escape  of  Andrews  and  Wollam. 

gun  with  fixed  bayonet  on  him,  or  crawl 
back  into  the  old  prison  cock-loft  and 
bear  the  ills  he  was  certain  of.  He 
crawled  back  and  told  us  ‘ it  was  all  up 
with  us.^  We  were  crowded  in  the  loft 
waiting  for  our  turn  to  go  out,  and 
listening  to  the  racket  on  the  outside. 

Within  a very  few  moments,  almost  no 
time  at  all,  the  yard  was  filled  with 
troops,  and  by  their  loud,  excited  talk 
we  learned,  to  our  unspeakable  joy,  of 
the  escape  of  Andrews  and  Wollam. 

“The  rebels,  of  course,  did  not  at  that  moment  know  wno  or  how  many  of  their 
prisoners  were  out,  but  we  in  the  loft  already  knew  that  the  excited  sentries  had  fired 
wildly.  At  all  events,  neither  Andrews  nor  Wollam  were  to  be  seen  anywhere,  either  dead 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny 


253 


or  alive.  While  we  felt  the  keenest  disappointment  at  our  failure  to  get  out,  yet  we  felt  a 
thousand  times  repaid  for  our  effort  that  even  Andrews  had  escaped.  A heavy  load  had 
^ been  lifted  from  our  minds.  We  took  new  hope.  We  knew  that  Andrews  would  put  forth 
superhuman  efforts  to  gain  the  Federal  lines,  and,  if  he  succeeded,  we  felt  that  Chat- 
tanooga would,  in  all  human  probability,  get  a visit  very  shortly  from  General  Mitchel. 
We  thought  that  if  either  of  the  escaped  men  reached  the  lines  and  told  our  comrades  of 
our  desperate  situation,  that  they  would  at  once  demand  to  be  led  to  our  rescue. 

“ The  musket  firing  and  the  news  of  the  jail-break  and  escape  of  prisoners  spread 
through  camp  and  town  like  the  wind,  and  soon  the  whole  population  was  in  a fever  of 
excitement,  and  all  the' available  man-hunting  force,  dogs  included,  joined  in  the  pursuit. 

>>  “It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  tell  the  reader  that  those  of  us  who  failed  to  make 
good  our  escape  were  now  put  down  in  the  hole.  This  would  follow  as  a matter  of 
course. 

In  our  Knoxville  prisons  we  were  thrilled  beyond  measure  by  reading 
the  following  item  from  the  Knoxville  Register  of  June  4th,  1862.  The 
paper  was  kindly  slipped  into  our  cage  by  a prisoner  who  was  less  strictly 
I confined.  It  is  produced  here  as  showing  the  impression  of  the  escape  at 
that  moment. 

“THE  ESCAPED  TRAIN-STEALERS! 

“ Below  we  give  the  copy  of  the  despatch  that  was  sent  from  this  city  yesterday  to  the 
Provost- Marshal  at  Chattanooga  by  Mr.  Wm.  A.  Fuller,  authorizing  him  to  offer  a reward 
of  $100  for  the  re-capture  of  the  train-stealer,  Andrews,  Mr.  Fuller  is  the  conductor  of 

♦ the  stolen  train,  who  made  such  a heroic  pursuit  of  the  thieves,  starting  with  a handcar, 
and  eventually  succeeding  in  their  capture.  He  is  in  this  city,  attending  the  court-martial 
in  session  here  as  a witness.  He  is  naturally  indignant  that  the  rascals  he  made  so  much 
exertion  to  capture  should  have  been  permitted  so  easily  to  escape. 

“June  3d,  Knoxville. 

“Col.  Henry  L.  Claiborne. 

“ Is  it  possible  that  the  infamous  Andrews  escaped  ? Is  he  pursued  ? If  not,  offer  in 
^my  name  $100  reward  for  his  recapture  and  reincarceration. 

“WM.  A.  FULLER. 

“Andrews,  we  learn,  is  tall  in  stature,  weighing  about  180  lbs.,  and  is  about  35  years 
old.  He  has  short  black  hair,  and  a heavy  black  beard  all  over  his  face.  In  ordinary 
conversation  his  voice  is  fine  and  effeminate,  and  his  general  address  is  good.  We  trust 
that  this  description  may  lead  to  his  recognition  and  arrest.” 

• Andrews  and  Wollam  separated  as  soon  as  they  left  the  prison.  The 
former  ran  a short  distance  beyond  the  skirts  of  the  town,  after  having 
taken  precautions  to  throw  the  dogs  off  his  track,  and  finding  it  too  light 
to  travel  further  in  safety,  climbed  into  a tree  with  dense  foliage,  which 
stood  in  plain  view  of  the  railroad.  All  day  long  he  watched  the  running 
of  the  trains  so  close  that  he  could  have  tossed  a pebble  on  them,  and 

#once  heard  a party  in  pursuit  talking  about  his  mysterious  disappearance. 
The  search  was  patient  and  complete,  but  they  did  not  think  of  looking 
over  their  heads  ! 


254 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


He  descended  at  nightfall  and  swam  the  deep  and  rapid  river,  feeling 
that  his  best  course  was  to  get  into  the  loyal  mountainous  country  through 
which  he  would  only  need  to  journey  a short  distance  to  reach  the  Union  i 
lines.  His  prospect  now  would  have  been  good  but  for  the  loss  of  boots 
and  hat  in  the  first  rush,  and  the  additional  loss  of  his  coat  in  swimming 
the  river.  His  course  was  in  the  main  down  the  river,  but  he  could  not 
make  rapid  progress.  The  sharp  stones  in  the  darkness  soon  cut  away 
his  stockings  and  left  the  bleeding  feet  unprotected.  He  bound  them  up 
with  portions  of  his  garments  as  well  as  he  could,  and  continued  on  his 
desperate  and  painful  way.  But  he  was  a little  too  long  in  finding  a hiding- 
place,  and  was  observed  in  the  morning  twilight  just  as  he  was  crossing  an 
open  field  in  which  he  intended  to  take  shelter, as  he  had  done  the  day  before.’ 
Instantly  the  alarm  was  given  and  pursuit  made  by  men  and  dogs.  With 
boots  and  other  clothing  he  might  have  escaped,  for  he  could  probably 
have  made  such  use  of  the  streams  as  to  elude  them.  As  it  was  he  put 
forth  every  effort.  Dashing  through  the  woods  he  regained  the  river  bank  t 
much  lower  down  than  he  had  crossed  the  night  before.  Believing  that 
he  was  now  unobserved,  he  swam  a narrow  channel  to  a small  island,  and 
carefully  concealed  himself  among  some  drift-wood  at  its  upper  end. 

But  the  hunters  were  determined  to  leave  no  spot  unsearched.  A 
party  with  bloodhounds  now  crossed  over  from  the  mainland  and  explored 
the  whole  island.  He  was  soon  found,  but  broke  away  from  them  and  ran 
around  the  lower  end  of  the  island,  wading  in  the  shallow  water  to  throw 
the  hounds  off  the  track;  then  he  plunged  into  a dense  thicket  with  which 
the  island  was  covered,  and  again  ascended  a tree.  For  a long  time  he 
found  secure  concealment  here,  his  foes  being  frequently  under  the  very 
tree.  They  finally  concluded  that  he  must  have  got  back  over  the  strip 
of  water  to  the  mainland,  and  slowly  returned  to  seek  him  there.  Two 
little  boys  who  had  only  followed  for  curiosity  were  all  that  lingered  be-  ^ 
hind. 

One  of  the  boys  happened  to  look  up  and  said  to  the  other  that  he 
saw  a great  bunch  on  a tree.  The  second  looked  to  see  what  it  was — 
shifted  his  position — looked  again,  and  exclaimed  that  it  was  a man  ! 
They  cried  out  in  alarm  and  thus  announced  their  discovery  to  their 
friends  on  shore.  The  latter  instantly  returned,  and  Andrews  seeing  ^ 
himself  discovered — the  story  is  almost  too  pitiful  to  be  told  ! — dropped 
from  the  tree,  ran  to  the  lower  end  of  the  island,  seized  a small,  dead  log, 
and  with  a limb  for  a paddle,  pushed  into  the  stream,  hoping  to  reach 
the  opposite  shore  before  he  could  be  overtaken.  So  far  as  the  island 
pursuers  were  concerned  he  might  have  succeeded;  but  there  was  another 
party  with  a skiff,  lower  down  the  stream,  who  shoved  out  to  meet  him.  ^ 
The  helpless  man  could  do  no  more,  and  was  taken. 

The  struggle  had  been  one  of  almost  hopeless  agony.  He  had  eaten 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny, 


255 


nothing  since  Sunday  afternoon  and  it  was  now  two  o^clock  on  Tuesday. 
His  back  was  blistered  by  exposure,  unprotected,  to  the  sun;  and  his  feel 
were  covered  with  bleeding  gashes.  He  said  that  he  felt  so  wretched  and 
miserable  that  the  thought  of  certain  death,  to  which  he  then  resigned 
himself,  had  no  further  terror. 

Wollam’s  atempt  to  escape  was  for  a time  more  fortunate  and  skill- 
ful than  that  of  Andrews.  He  broke  through  the  guards,  and  ran 
the  gauntlet  of  hasty  shots  without  injury.  Soon  he  reached  the  river 
bank  and  not  wishing  to  attempt  the  passage  in  the  growing  light,  hit 
upon  the  happy  expedient  of  making  the  enemy  believe  that  he  was  across. 
To  this  end  he  threw  off  his  coat  and  vest,  dropping  them  on  the  river 
bank,  and  then  waded  a little  way  in  the  water  to  throw  the  hounds  off 
the  scent;  then  quietly  slipping  back,  hid  himself  in  a dense  thicket  of 
canes  and  rushes.  He  soon  heard  the  hounds  and  men  who  were  pursu- 
ing, on  the  bank  above  and  all  about  him..  He  could  hear  the  words  they 
uttered,  they  were  so  close.  At  length  they  found  the  clothing  and  con- 
cluded that  he  had  taken  to  the  river.  They  crossed  over  and  searched 
with  them  hounds  along  the  water’s  edge  on  the  other  side  for  the  place 
he  had  come  out.  As  might  be  expected,  the  dogs  failed  to  find  the  exit, 
and  after  due  consultation,  they  concluded  that  he  was  drowned,  which 
being  a satisfactory  termination,  they  returned 

But  Wollam  was  not  drowned.  He  spent  the  day  in  much  anxiety  and 
suspense,  and  when  night  came  he  cautiously  left  his  hiding-place  and 
worked  his  way  along  the  river  on  the  very  front  of  Chattanooga,  till  he 
came  across  a canoe,  which  he  borrowed  for  the  occasion — without  seeing 
the  owner — and  rowed  down  stream  all  night.  This  was  a swift  mode  of 
progression.  As  soon  as  he  saw  a sign  of  dawn  he  sought  a retired  place, 
sunk  the  canoe,  and  hid  in  the  woods  till  night  allowed  him  to  proceed. 
This  he  did  daily  fora  week.  Twice  he  was  saved  if  he  had  but  known  it. 
General-  Mitchel  had  constructed  an  extemporized  gunboat  with  which  to 
patrol  the  river,  and  twice  Wollam  passed  within  hail  of  it.  But  he  had 
heard  nothing  of  any  such  Union  craft  being  on  the  river,  and  imagined 
it  to  be  some  rebel  boat,  perhaps  searching  for  him.  In  the  dark  it  was 
not  easy  to  see  any  indications  of  its  character.  So  the  poor  boy  crept 
cautiously  by  in  the  shadow  of  the  shore  without  being  discovered  ! 

But  at  last  he  made  the  mistake  that  Wood  and  Wilson  had  made  long 
before.  He  imagined  that  he  was  safe  and  went  boldly  forward  in  the 
day-time  1 One  more  night’s  journey  by  boat,  or  half  that  time  put  in  on 
foot  directly  northward  would  have  carried  him  safely  beyond  the  border. 
But  as  he  was  going  forward,  congratulating  himself  on  having  succeeded 
so  well,  a band  of  rebel  cavalry  who  were  making  a raid  into  Mitchel’s 
territory,  saw  him,  and  procuring  a boat  with  several  pairs  of  oars,  came 
out  to  meet  him.  Wollam  saw  his  danger,  and  there  was  a hot  chase,  but 


2^6 


JUartng  and  Suffering, 

the  advantage  was  all  on  their  side.  If  MitcheFs  gunboat  had  but  ap^ 
peared  on  the  scene  then  ! He  was  retaken,  and  as  usual  tried  to  deceive 
them  as  to  his  character;  but  a Lieutenant  Edwards,  who  had  been  with 
the  party  who  captured  him  the  first  time,  identified  him,  and  he  was  re- 
united with  his  comrades  in  Atlanta. 

When  Andrews  was  brought  back  to  Chattanooga  a scene  of  much 
npparent  barbarity  followed.  His  escape  had  excited  great  rage,  and  pro- 


Riveting  Chains  in  the  Dungeon. 


duced  most  terrible  consequences  at  Knoxville,  which  will  be  narrated 
hereafter.  But  they  were  now  determined  to  give  him  no  further  oppor- 
tunity of  snatching  their  cherished  vengeance  from  their  hands.  He  was 
put  down  in  the  hole  with  the  other  prisoners,  and  all  access  to  the  yard 
was  denied.  Of  course  no  other  visitors  could  see  them.  The  guard  was 
stimulated  to  renewed  diligence.  But  as  chains  and  handcuffs  had  proved 
ineffectual,  something  more  secure  was  devised.  From  the  shop  of  William 
Lewis,  the  colored  blacksmith  before  mentioned,  a man  was  brought  over 
and  taken  down  into  the  dungeon,  who  riveted  a pair  of  heavy  iron  fetters 


A Struggle  Against  Dcsthiy, 


257 


around  his  ankles.  Dorsey  and  Wilson,  who  were  present,  describe  the 
scene  as  ominous  and  terrible,  the  dimness  of  the  dungeon,  the  poor,  death- 
^ sentenced  man,  half  reclining  with  his  feet  across  the  blacksmith^s  anvil, 
the  blows  of  the  heavy  hammer,  as  the  work  of  riveting  went  on  ! A 
strong  chain,  only  eighteen  inches  long,  united  the  two  heavy  fetters, 
so  that  only  half  a step  could  be  taken  at  once.  The  teet  were  thus  fast- 
ened, in  the  same  manner  as  hands  are  by  handcuffs,  and  the  latter  were 
also  replaced.  When  all  these  arrangements  were  completed,  he  was  once 
more  left  to  himself. 

^ Andrews  had  now  but  four  days  more  of  dungeon  life  between  himself 
and  eternity.  Escape  was  impossible  unless  there  should  be  a rapid  ad- 
vance of  the  Federal  forces — a possibility  which  did  come  very  near  being 
made  a fact.  He  applied  himself  to  the  great  business  of  preparing  to 
die.  Most  unexpectedly  a letter  written  at  this  time  and  in  some  way 
carried  through  the  lines  has  come  to  hand,  and  throws  great  light  upon 
^ his  character  and  thoughts  at  this  period.  He  managed  in  some  unknown 
manner  to  get  writing  material  and  wrote  two  or  three  letters.  One,  no 
doubt,  was  written  to  his  betrothed  in  Flemingsburg,  but  never  received. 
Another  was  written  to  his  mother  in  Missouri.  The  contents  of  the  lat- 
ter can  only  be  given  as  they  are  remembered  after  an  interval  of  many 
years  by  one  who  read  the  letter.  He  told  his  mother  that  he  was  to  die, 
and  that  all  he  regretted  was  that  he  had  been  able  to  do  so  little  for  his 
country;  that  many  other  sons  had  left  their  bones  bleaching  on  Southern 
battle-fields;  that  he  had  tried  to  do  his  duty,  and  was  now  seeking  the 
pardon  and  favor  of  God.  There  were  many  other  half-remembered  ex- 
pressions similar  to  those  which  are  given  in  the  letter  belowc 

The  following  communication  addressed  to  a trusted  friend  in  Flemings- 
burg, Kentucky,  and  which  from  some  references  to  property  it  contains, 
I has  been  called  “ The  Will  of  Andrews,’’  needs  a word  of  explanation. 
The  gift  bestowed  upon  Miss  Layton  was  of  trifling  value,  though  most 
pathetic — a mere  empty  trunk  ! But  the  full  significance  of  this  was,  no 
doubt,  given,  with  probably  more  substantial  bequests,  in  OEje  or  other 
of  the  missing  letters.  This  letter,  which  reached  Flemingsburg,  Ken- 
tucky, in  August,  two  months  after  it  was  written,  being  mailed  at  Louis- 
I ville,  is  recorded  in  the  Flemingsburg  book  of  wills,  while  the  original 
is  most  carefully  preserved.  Andrews  had  directed  his  friend  to  draw 
out  his  money  in  the  Flemingsburg  bank — some  $2000,  with  gold  pre- 
mium and  interest — in  case  he  never  returned,  giving  him  a check  for 
that  purpose;  and  to  lend  it  on  good  security,  paying  the  interest  as  a 
perpetual  bequest  to  the  town  poor.  The  friend  was  faithful  to  his  trust; 
and  though  the  money  was  afterwards  squandered  in  a pitiful  way,  and 
^ gave  rise  to  vexatious  law-suits,  yet  this  secured  the  careful  preservation 
of  the  letter. 


17 


r 


258 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


In  all  probability  Andrews  wrote  first  to  his  betrothed,  giving  those 
sad  remembrances  and  bequests  which  would  not  be  repeated  in  a letter 
to  another,  and  followed  with  this  more  general  and  business-like  com- 
munication. The  original  is  terribly  misspelled,  far  beyond  the  ordinary 
misspelling  of  ignorant  persons.  This  is  probably  intentional,  as  a few  lines 
at  the  first  have  no  errors.  The  letter  also  makes  references  to  our  being 
detailed  soldiers^  and  the  manner  of  this  leads  me  to  think  that  Andrews  so 
wrote  it  that  bur  pretensions  might  not  be  contradicted  if  the  enemy 
should  read  it. 


‘Chattanooga,  Tenn.,  June'sth,  1862. 

“D.  S.  McGavic,  Esq.,  Flemingsburg,  Ky. 

“ Dear  Sir  : — You  will  be  doubtless  surprised  to  hear  from  me  from  this  place,  and 
still  more  surprised  to  hear  that  I am  to  be  executed  on  the  7th  inst.  for  attempting  to  cap-, 
ture  and  run  a train  of  cars  from  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  to  Huntsville  for  the 
use  of  Gen.  Mitchel.  I had  a party  of  twenty-one  detailed  men  from  the  2d,  21st  and  33d  Ohio 
Regiments  with  me.  We  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  the  train  and  travelled  with 
it  some  eighty  or  eighty-five  miles,  when,  on  account  of  an  extra  train  being  on  the  road,  we 
were  compelled  to  abandon  the  train,  the  party  scattering  and  trying  to  make  our  way  back 
on  foot.  The  whole  party,  however,  were  captured.  I was  taken  on  the  14th  of  April. 

1 am  satisfied  I could  very  easily  have  got  away  had  they  not  put  a pack  of  dogs  on  my 
trail.  It  was  impossible  to  elude  them.  I was  tried  by  court-martial  and  received  my  sen- 
tence on  the  last  day  of  May,  just  one  week  from  the  time  set  for  my  execution.  On  Mon- 
day morning,  the  2d  of  June,  I made  an  escape.  I succeeded  in  getting  out  of  the  prison 
and  run  by  the  guard,  they  shooting  at  me  but  not  hitting  me.  The  whole  country  was 
immediately  swarmed  with  soldiers.  I succeeded  in  eluding  them  till  on  Tuesday,  about 

2 o’clock,  when  I was  recaptured  and  will  be  executed  on  Saturday.  The  sentence  seems 
a hard  one  for  the  crime  proven,  but  I suppose  the  court  that  tried  me  thought  otherwise. 
I have  now  calmly  submitted  to  my  fate,  and  have  been  earnestly  engaged  in  preparing  to 
meet  my  God  in  peace.  And  I have  found  that  peace  of  mind  and  tranquility  of  soul  that 
even  surprises  myself.  I never  supposed  it  possible  that  a man  could  feel  so  complete  a 
change  under  similar  circumstances.  How  I would  like  to  have  one  hour’s  chat  with  you; 
but  this  I shall  never  have  in  this  world,  but  hope  and  pray  that  we  may  meet  in  heaven, 
where  the  troubles  and  trials  of  this  life  never  enter.  What  the  fate  of  the  balance  of  the 
party  will  be  I am  unable  to  say,  but  I hope  they  will  not  share  the  fate  of  their  leader. 
If  they  return,  some  two  or  three  of  them  will  call  on  you  and  the  rest  of  the  friends,  and 
I hope  you  will  receive  them  kindly.  They  are  noble  fellows,  and  will  give  you  a full  his- 
tory of  the  affair.  Please  acquaint  my  friends  with  my  fate.  I will  try  to  write  to  some 
two  or  three  more  before  my  execution.  Tell  J.  B.  Jackson,  should  there  be  any  little 
claims  that  I neglected  to  settle,  to  pay  them,  and  keep  the  horse.  I don’t  think  there  are 
any,  but  there  may  be.  In  regard  to  other  matters,  do  exactly  as  instructed  before  I left. 
I wrote  several  letters,  but  never  received  any.  Please  read  this  letter  to  Mrs.  Eckles,  and 
tell  her  that  I have  thought  of  her  kindness  many  times,  and  that  I hope  we  may  meet  in 
heaven,  where  we  shall  enjoy  the  presence  of  the  Lord  forever.  Give  my  kindest  regards 
to  Mr.  Eckles  also.  According  to  the  course  of  nature  it  will  not  be  long  till  we  shall  meet 
in  that  happy  country.  Blessed  thought  ! Remember  me  also  to  the  young  ladies  of  Flem- 
ingsburg,  especially  to  Miss  Kate  Wallingford  and  Miss  Nannie  Baxter.  Hoping  we 
may  meet  in  that  beP  * country,  I bid  you  a long  and  last  farewell. 

“ J.  J.  ANDREWS.” 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny, 


259 


The  following  was  added  on  the  same  sheet: 

“Chattanooga,  Tenn.,  June  5th,  1862. 

“ D.  S.  McGavic,  Esq.,  J.  B.  Jackson,  Mrs.  Sarah  Eckles, 

“ Flemingsbiirg,  Fleming  Co.,  Ky. ; 

“You  will  find  one  trunk  and  one  black  valise;  the  valise  has  my  name  in  red  letters 
on  the  end,  the  other  had  my  name  on  a paper  pasted  on  the  end  : these  are  at  the  City 
Hotel  at  Nashville,  in  care  of  the  old  porter  on  the  third  floor.  These,  with  contents,  I 
present  to  you.  Mr.  Hawkins,  you  will  find  at  the  Louisville  hotel,  a large,  lady’s  trunk, 
no  mark  on  it,  and  is  entirely  empty.  Please  take  it  to  Mr.  Lindsey’s,  near  Mill  Creek 
Church,  on  the  Maysville  and  Flemingsburg  Turnpike,  and  request  him  to  present  it  to 
Miss  Elizabeth  Layton  for  me,  and  oblige, 

“ J.  J.  ANDREWS.” 

(This  was  proved  and  recorded  as  a will,  at  Flemingsburg,  on  the 
3d  and  19th  of  January,  1863.  The  money  referred  to  in  the  clause 
“ do  exactly  as  instructed  before  I left,”  was  duly  drawn  from  bank  and 
loaned  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor/) 

After  writing  these  letters  Andrews  had  but  two  days  to  live.  He 
watched  for  opportunities  to  send  them  by  faithful  hand  through  to  the 
Federal  lines.  It  was  in  vain  to  ask  permission  of  the  Confederate  author- 
ities, as  they  had  apparently  tried  to  keep  everything  relating  to  us  from 
the  Federal  forces. 

The  erection  of  the  scaffold  began  at  Chattanooga,  but  on  the  next 
day  the  movements  of  the  Federals  had  become  so  threatening  as  to  pro-'^l 
duce  quite  a panic  at  Knoxville,  suspending  the  Court-martial  there  and 
leading  to  the  removal  of  everything  which  could  be  spared,  further 
South.  On  the  6th  of  June,  the  day  before  that  fixed  for  the  execution. 
General  E.  Kirby  Smith  wrote  no  less  than  thirteen  dispatches^  from 
Knoxville  in  different  directions,  the  general  purport  of  which  was  that 
the  enemy  was  advancing  with  overwhelming  forces,  and  that  Chattanooga 
would  fall  and  East  Tennessee  have  to  be  abandoned,  and  giving  direc- 
tions for  lines  of  retreat  and  for  removing  the  stores.  Of  course,  to  ar- 
range for  an  execution  on  the  7th,  in  the  face  of  an  advancing  enemy, 
might  have  led  to  a very  sudden  pardon;  and  accordingly  Andrews  and  his 
companions  were  ordered  to  Atlanta  once  more,  on  the  early  morning 
train.  There  was  again  the  excited  crowds,  an  invariable  accompani- 
ment of  our  frequent  transits  over  this  road;  but  in  addition  the  fact  that 
Andrews  was  to  die,  was  published,  and  he  was  taunted  frequently  with 
references  to  his  approaching  doom.  These  he  bore  with  his  usual  calm, 
sad  patience. 

An  instance  in  connection  with  these  persecutions  is  especially  path- 
etic. Whiteman  came  on  the  cars,  and,  advancing  to  where  Andrews  was, 

* For  further  particulars  see  Chap.  XXXVI. 

2 War  Records,  Series  L,  Vol.  X..  Part  2,  pp.  592-597. 


26o 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


accosted  his  former  partner.  Parrott,  who  gives  the  account,  was  sitting 
on  the  seat  behind,  and  could  not  help  overhearing  all  the  conversation. 

The  merchant  said,  “What  can  you  do,  Mr.  Andrews,  about  that' 
$10,000  I let  you  have  for  the  purchase  of  quinine  and  other  things.’’ 

Andrews  replied,  “ Mr.  Whiteman,  this  is  no  time  to  talk  about 
money.  If  you  had  done  as  I wished  you  to  do  in  Chattanooga,  you 
would  have  had  all  that  back,  and  twice  as  much  more.’’  (Parrott  under- 
stood Andrews  to  refer  to  some  proposition  that  Andrews  had  made  to 
Mr.  Whiteman  on  his  trial,  and  the  failure  to  accept  which  was  the  great- 
est disappointment  that  Andrews  had  then  experienced.) 

Whiteman  continued,  “ Is  . that  all  you  have  to  say,  Mr.  Andrews  ? ’’ 

“Yes,  sir,  that  is  all,’’  responded  the  doomed  man.  With  a gesture  of 
deep  disappointment,  Whiteman  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  rapidly  away. 

The  death  procession  reached  Atlanta  a little  after  noon,  and  the  pris- 
oners were  conducted  by  their  guard  to  a room  used  as  barracks,  two 
squares  from  the  depot.  Here  they  were  kept  under  close  guard  await- 
ing the  completion  of  the  arrangements  for  the  military  murder.  The  foot 
chains  had  not  been  removed  from  Andrews,  and  as  he  walked  up  into  his 
room  with  the  short,  halting  step  that  they  required,  the  clanking  was 
horrible.  Not  very  much  was  said  in  these  few  sad  moments.  Andrews 
did  speak  in  his  quiet  way  of  the  better  life,  and  his  wish  to  meet  all  his 
comrades  in  heaven.  His  words  could  not  fail  of  making  a deep  impres- 
sion, though  hope  of  vengeance  for  the  coming  deed  would  have  been 
sweeter  to  the  poor  boys  than  almost  any  kind  of  a prospect  beyond 
the  grave.  But  soon  a body  of  strange  soldiers  came  up  to  the  building. 
Their  commander  entered  and  asked  Andrews  in  a very  respectful  tone 
if  he  was  ready  now.  The  latter  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  then 
bade  “ Good-bye^’  to  the  comrades  who  had  passed  through  so  many  dan- 
gers with  him.  They  were  affected  beyond  the  power  of  words,  and  could 
only  vow  vengeance — a vow  made  good  on  many  a subsequent  battle-field  ! 
They  heard  the  clank,  clank,  of  his  chains  as  he  walked  slowly  down  the 
stairs.  These  chains,  so  far  as  we  could  learn,  were  never  removed  ! 

The  procession  moved  out  Peachtree  street,  the  most  fashionable  and 
beautiful  street  of  Atlanta, and  continued  for  about  two  miles  from  the  depot. 
On  the  way,  the  Provost  Marshal  asked  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott,  a Methodist 
clergyman,  to  accompany  them  and  act  as  Chaplain.  He  almost  refused, 
but  Andrews  spoke  in  his  winning,  courteous  manner,  saying,  “ I would 
be  glad  to  have  you  go,  sir.’’  Such  an  appeal  Scott  could  not  resist,  and 
attended  him  to  the  last,  writing  many  years  after  his  recollection  of 
the  affair.?  A great  crowd,  in  addition  to  the  strong  guard,  went  along, 
but  there  appears  to  have  been  no  unseemly  taunts  or  disorder.  To 

^ An  Episode  of  the  War  : an  essay  in  a volume  entitled  From  Lincoln  to  Cleveland y 
by  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott,  Atlanta,  1886. 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny, 


261 


Mr.  Scott  Andrews  gave  substantially  the  same  account  of  the  enter- 
prise that  has  already  been  given,  colored  a little  by  the  fact  that  he  did 
not  wish  even  in  death  to  say  one  word  that  might  in  any  way  injure  those 
comrades  who  had  been  so  true  to  him. 

No  element  of  pathos  in  the  terrible  scene  was  lacking.  A few  scores 
of  yards  from  the  road,  in  a little  valley,  a scaffold  was  erected.  There 
were  thin  woods  around,  and  night  was  coming  on.  A rope  circle  fenced 
off  the  spectators  to  a respectful  distance.  Mr.  Scott  spoke  the  words 
that  he  judged  fitting;  Rev.  Mr.  Conyers"  led  in  prayer;  Rev.  Mr.,  Connor 
administered  some  religious  counsel  to  the  patient  prisoner,  who  probably 
thought  that  all  the  sins  of  which  he  repented  were  less  than  the  sin  of 
rebellion  of  which  they  were  guilty.  No  coffin  was  provided,  but  a few 
hundred  feet  away  the  grave  was  already  open.  The  signal  was  given, 
and  the  not  uncommon  bungling  of  an  execution  added  new  horrors. 
The  cotton  rope  stretched  so  that  the  shackled  feet  reached  the  ground. 
“From  motives  of  humanity”^  the  ground  was  shoveled  away,  and  the 
soul  liberated. 

^he  pathos  of  this  death  is  indescribable.  The  drop  falls  and  the 
merely  physical  agony  is  soon  over.  The  body,  weakened  by  the  last  ter- 
rible struggle  for  life— made  not  so  much  for  self  as  for  the  loving  heart  in 
far-away  Flemingsburg — cannot  long  resist.  Then  the  corpse  is  taken 
down;  the  horror-bound  spectators  still  linger.  The  poor  remains  of  a 
man  of  superb  beauty  and  princely  endowments  are  carried  to  the  shallow 
grave  on  a little  hill  crest,  and  there,  near  a large  stone,  “which  may 
mark  the  grave,  if  any  friend  ever  wants  to  know  where  it  is,”  as  a spec- 
tator charitably  said,  he  is  laid  to  rest.  There  is  no  shroud.  The  only 
grave-clothes  are  the  tattered  garments  left  from  the  last  sad  race  for  life. 
Can  the  reader  conceive  anything  more  pitiful  than  the  view  presented 
just  before  the  damp  earth  is  thrown  on  the  cold,  upturned  face.  The 
busy  brain  from  which  came  daring  enterprises  and  cool  action  is  quiet 
forever.  The  limbs  that  toiled  so  far  for  patriotism,  fame,  perhaps  for 
vengeance,  and  at  last  for  life,  labor  no  more.  The  heart  so  true  to 
country  and  comrades,  so  faithful  under  forms  of  falsehood,  is  stilled. 
The  utmost  depths  of  adversity  have  been  sounded,  and  the  enemies 
around  can  touch  him  no  more.  Even  the  welded  shackles  which  seem  to 
bind  in  the  grave,  have  lost  their  power.  It  is  well  that  man  has  one  ref- 
uge from  every  earthly  misfortune:  and  as  evening  gathered  its  shadows 
over  the  little  heap  of  freshly  turned  earth  in  the  wood — a spot  long  un- 
recognized— was  he  not  better  off  than  the  comrades  from  whom  he  had 
just  parted,  or  those  more  distant,  whose  fate  was  trembling  in  the  bal- 
ance at  Knoxville  ! 


" Atlanta  Southern  Confederacy,^  June  8th,  1862. 

^ Captain  William  A.  Fuller’s  account  in  the  Sunny  South,^  1877. 


262 


Daring  and  Stiffering. 


It  is  difficult  rightly  to  estimate  the  character  of  this  remarkable  matic 
That  he  failed,  and  brought  fearful  suffering  to  others  as  well  as  himself, 
should  not  blind  us  to  his  real  greatness;  for  success  is  often  a happy 
accident.  The  manner  of  his  death  should  not  be  permitted  to  cast  back- 
ward too  dark  a shadow  over  his  enterprise.  In  the  mind  of  his  country-'^ 
men,  North  and  South,  there  will  always  remain  one  blot  upon  his  mem- 
ory: he  sought  his  results  by  fraud  rather  than  force.  This  was  not  felt 
so  much  while  the  passions  of  war  were  raging  as  afterward;  even  the 
enemy  who  put  him  to  death  would  have  been  ready  to  accept  with  accla- 
mation an  advantage  to  their  own  side  obtained  in  the  same  manner.  And 
standing  by  the  desolate  grave,  that  man  must  have  a' cold  heart  who  can 
utter  only  words  of  criticism  and  condemnation.  Certainly  the  present 
writer,  who  spent  so  many  days  and  nights  with  him  in  the  same  dark  cell, 
has  no  reproach  to  speak. 

Andrews  was  noble,  brave,  refined,  courteous  and  true.  The  latter 
epithet  may  seem  strange  as  applied  to  one  whose  trade  was  in  falsehood, 
and  whose  perfection  in  the  art  of  deceit  was  a constant  source  of  wonder. 
But  deceit  was  exercised  in  one  direction  only.  There  was  no  one  of  our 
party  who  had  not  the  most  absolute  trust  in  him.  If  our  lives  had  de- 
pended upon  his  fidelity,  we  could  have  gone  to  sleep  without  a single 
tremor.  In  this  our  creed  was  a little  like  that  of  the  American  Indian,  who 
bounds  his  virtues  by  his  own  tribe  and  thinks  they  have  no  application  out- 
side. We  would  have  accepted  a statement  of  Andrews,  given  in  the  ab- 
sence of  the  enemy ^ as  conclusive  on  any  point;  if  the  enemy  were  present  we 
would  have  given  it  no  value,  till  we  had  seen  whether  he  had  any  motive 
for  deceiving.  This  is  well  illustrated  by  the  price  Andrews  was  said  to 
be  promised  for  the  work  he  tried  to  do.  It  pleased  him  to  represent  it 
to  the  enemy  as  a purely  financial  transaction,  and  as  of  little  military  im- 
portance. He  never  made  any  such  representation  to  us  when  alone.  Had 
he  told  us  the  same  things  privately,  it  would  have  ended  all  controversy. 

Some  days  or  weeks  after  the  completion  of  this  mournful  tragedy,^  a 
man  came  to  the  old  depot  at  Stevenson,  Alabama,  which  was  then  used  as  a 
store-house  by  the  Federals.  He  seemed  to  be  a stranger,  and  ^ent  cau- 
tiously up  to  Sergt.  Wm.  Hunter  Myres,  of  Co.  K.,  33rd  Ohio,  and  asked 
to  speak  with  him  alone.  Myres  at  once  assented,  and  took  him  into  the 
room.  The  man  looked  to  see  that  no  one  was  near  the  door  or  windows, 
and  then  said,  “ I have  papers  in  my  possession,  which  would  cost  me  my 
life  if  the  rebels  should  discover  them  on  me.  I want  to  get  clear  of 
them.’*  Myres  took  the  papers,  and  glanced  over  them,  finding  the  let. 
ter  of  Andrews  to  his  mother,  and  his  ‘Svill,’^  already  quoted.  He  was 
perfectly  familiar  with  our  expedition,  belonging  to  the  same  Company  as 
Parrott,  and  indeed  was  spoken  of  for  that  place  himself.  This  made  it 


^ This  account  was  received  directly  from  Mr.  Myres  by  the  writer. 


A Struggle  Against  Destiny, 


263 


easy  for  him  to  recognize  the  great  interest  of  the  papers,  for  up  to  this 
time  only  scattered  and  partial  information  had  been  brought  through  the 
lines.  On  inquiry  the  man  said  he  was  a fireman  on  the  Georgia  State 
Railroad,  and  that  he  had  been  employed  for  several  years  in  that  capa- 
city, His  native  place,  however,  was  Hagerstown,  Maryland,  and  he  had 
stood  the  ways  of  the  rebels  as  long  as  he  could,  and  was  now  anxious  to 
get  back  home.  Myres  wanted  to  know  how  he  came  in  possession  of  the 
papers,  but  he  declared  that  he  dared  not  tell.  Finding  that  he  had 
nothing  more  to  say,  he  was  sent  under  guard  to  Huntsville,  from  which 
place  it  was  easy  for  him  to  reach  his  old  home;  and  the  papers  also,  after 
considerable  detention,  arrived  at  their  destination. 

The  account  of  the  escape  and  recapture  of  Andrews  was  published  in 
the  Cincinnati  Commercial^  about  the  tenth  of  June,  and  reached  the  sis- 
ter of  Miss  Layton,  with  whom  that  lady  then  made  her  home.  As  she 
was  already  in  deep  distress  because  of  Andrews’s  long  delay  without  any 
message,  they  did  not  dare  to  tell  her  the  perilous  situation  in  which  her 
lover  was  placed.  But  near  the  end  of  June,  the  full  account  of  his  exe- 
cution was  cbpied  in  the  same  paper  from  the  Southern  Confederacy.  As 
the  end  of  all  her  hopes  had  come,  (less  than  a week  before  the  intended 
wedding-day)  her  brother  and  sister  judged  it  best  not  to  keep  her  longer 
in  suspense,  and  the  paper  was  handed  to  her.  Her  eyes  rested  on  the 
following  paragraphs : 

‘‘Yesterday  evening’s  train  brought  from  Chattanooga  to  this  place  to  be  executed, 
Andrews,  the  leader  of  the  engine  thieves,  under  sentence  of  death,  convicted  by  court- 
martial  of  being  a spy.  He  was  carried  out  Peach  Tree  St.  road,  accompanied  by  three 
clergymen,  and  escorted  by  a guard.  A considerable  crowd  followed  to  witness  ths  exe- 
cution. 

“ He  was  a native  of  Hancock  Co. , Va.,  born  in  1829,  brought  up  by  pious  Presbyterian 
parents,  who  now  reside  in  Southwestern  Missouri.  A good  portion  of  his  life  had  been 
spent  in  Fleming  Co.,  Ky.  He  had  no  family,  but  was  engaged  to  be  married  during  the 
present  month.” 

She  did  not  shriek  or  cry  out,  but  read  it  through  to  the  end  and  wer: ' 
silently  to  her  room,  from  which  she  did  not  emerge  for  hours;  and  whcu 
she  did  rejoin  the  family  her  face  was  drawn  and  pale,  and  the  light  had 
gone  out  of  her  eyes.  From  this  time  forward  she  took  little  interest  in 
anything  until  the  letter  to  Mr.  McGavic,  printed  above,  arrived.  Many 
months  after,  the  empty  trunk,  so  pathetic  an  emblem  of  her  blasted 
hopes  and  the  great  tragedy  that  had  fallen  on  her  life,  was  recovered. 
In  the  absence  of  any  explanation,  for  the  letter  to  her  was  never  received, 
it  seemed  like  a cruel  mockery  ! Not  long  after  she  died,  thus  rejoining 
the  man  she  had  loved  so  faithfully  through  such  hopeless  sorrow.  No 
brave  man  perishes  that  some  tender  woman’s  heart  is  not  crushed  ! 


^ Southern  Confederacy^  June  8th,  1862. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

KNOXVILLE. 

The  twelve  of  us  who  had  been  separated  from  the  others  at  Chatta-  \ 
nooga  were  escorted  by  Col.  Claiborne  to  the  cars,  ironed  as 
usual,  and  committed  by  him  to  the  care  of  a band  of  Morgan’s 
celebrated  guerillas,  with  the  charitable  injunction:  “These  are  men,’ 
like  other  men,  and  gentlemen  too,  and  I want  them  treated  as  such.’ 

We  parted  from  him  regretfully,  for  his  kindness  was  rare  and  precious. 

Morgan^s  men  were  well  dressed  in  citizens’  clothes,  (for  they  were  not 
always  uniformed,  even  in  the  enemy’s  country,)  and  treated  us  kindly.  ^ 
They  were  equally  liable  with  ourselves  to  be  held  as  spies,  and  probably 
did  not  feel  that  our  having  been  captured  in  citizens’  dress  was  such  a 
deadly  offense  ! To  see  us  in  irons  made  them  very  indignant,  and  they 
vigorously  denounced  their  own  government  for  such  an  outrage,  but  in 
the  face  of  their  orders  could  not  remove  them.  We  had  started  as  usual 
without  rations,  on  the  calculation  that  we  could  starve  through,  for  the  «. 
time  should  not  have  exceeded  ten  or  twelve  hours.  But  the  trains  in  the 
South  then  ran  slowly  and  were  often  delayed.  It  was  not  at  all  surpris- 
ing that  we  were  nearly  a da}^  and  night  on  the  way.  But  our  guerillas 
would  not  permit  us  to  suffer,  buying  us  pies  and  all  accessible  luxuries, 
telling  us  that  they  had  plenty  of  money,  and  that  when  it  was  gone  they  • 
could  easily  get  more  from  “ the  Yankees.”  We  hoped  that  we  might  ^ 
always  have  Morgan’s  men  as  an  escort  when  moved  from  one  prison  to 
another. 

A little  after  noon  the  next  day  we  arrived  in  Knoxville  and  were 
lodged  in  the  old  jail.  It  w^as  a square  and  massive  building,  far  stronger 
than  any  jail  we  had  occupied.  At  this  time  it  was  used  as  a military 
prison  and  was  filled  from  top  to  bottom  with  dirty  ragged  prisoners. 

Most  of  these  were  Union  men,  but  some  were  deserters  from  their  own 
rebel  ranks.  These  constituted  the  lower  class  of  prisoners,  and  were 
permitted  to  range  over  most  of  the  building,  which  was  completely  encir- 
cled by  a strong  guard 

The  higher  (or  more  dangerous)  class  were  shut  up  in  cages  like  that 
which  I had  found  at  Lafayette.  There  were  five  of  these.  No  doubt 
was  entertained  as  to  our  classification,  and  two  of  the  cages  were  at  once  ^ 
emptied  for  us.  One  was  about  seven  by  nine,  and  held  four,  the  other 
was  possibly  ten  by  twelve,  and  eight  filled  it  quite  full,  though  there  was 


Knoxville, 


265  ' 


no  such  crowding  and  suffocation  here  as  under  the  dominion  of  Lead- 
better  and  Swims  at  Chattanooga.  In  this  larger  cage  the  noted  Parson 
^ Brownlow  had  been  confined  for  a time. 

It  was  now  May  and  the  weather  outside  was  warm,  but  inside  this 
large  building  it  was  cool — indeed  some  nights  were  too  chilly  for  com- 
fort. We  did  not  receive  any  new  clothes  or  blankets,  and  were  little 
prepared  for  even  moderate  changes  of  temperature.  But  suffering  from 
this  source  was  not  serious  and  the  time  passed  not  unpleasantly.  Wc 
I could  talk  with  outside  prisoners  through  the  bars  and  get  many  an  inter- 
esting story.  Although  newspapers  were  forbidden,  good  friends  would 
often  bring  them  to  us,  and  we  were  kept  fairly  well  informed.  This 
place  was  a great  improvement  on  any  which  we  had  endured,  and  we 
spent  the  days  in  comparative  pleasure,  and  in  a great  degree  of  hope. 

In  looking  back  over  this  period  such  hopefulness  seems  wonderful. 
I had  but  little  fear  of  the  result.  The  chain  of  reasoning  by  which  I had 
^ demonstrated  that  it  would  be  unprofitable  for  the  rebels  to  hang  us  was 
very  plain — possibly  because  I wished  it  to  appear  so  ! We  were  visited 
by  Confederate  officers  who  took  a great  deal  of  pains  to  confirm  our 
hopes.  Whether  this  was  because  as  they  grew  to  know  us  they  did  not 
wish  us  to  die,  or  whether  they  wanted  to  keep  us  in  good  heart  that  we 
might  not  make  desperate  efforts  to  escape,  I can  not  positively  determine. 
> Even  the  Judge  Advocate  seemed  to  agree  with  all  our  hopefulness.  So 
far  as  he  and  the  officers  of  the  court  who  visited  us  are  concerned,  I can- 
not acquit  them  of  a deliberate  intention  to  deceive,  of  which  very  strong 
documentary  evidence  will  be  presented  shortly.  In  fact  there  is  one 
• phase  of  the  work  of  this  court-martial  upon  which  no  Confederate  even 
can  look  without  sorrow  and  indignation.  But  more  of  this  anon. 

^ We  here  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a few  Tennesseeans  who  remained 
with  us  during  our  stay  in  the  South.  Peter  Pierce  was  a remarkable  man, 
some  sixty  years  old,  who  had  received  a stroke  with  a gun-barrel,  right 
down  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  which,  even  after  healing,  had  left  : 
gash  more  than  an  inch  deep.  From  this  he  was  familiarly  called  “ Gun 
barrel,’*  “ Forked-head,”  etc.  He  was  both  very  religious  and  very  pro 
fane.  At  one  moment  he  would  be  singing  hymns  and  the  next  cursing 
^ the  Confederacy  in  no  measured  terms.  He  was  very  generous  to  Union 
soldiers,  whom  he  almost  adored. 

Here  it  was  that  we  first  learned  to  know  one  of  the  noblest  men  in 
the  world,  though  as  yet  we  could  not  see  him.  Captain  David  Fry  was 
in  solitary  confinement — that  is,  he  was  kept  in  a cage  by  himself — and  we 
frequently  wrote  little  notes  to  him  on  the  margin  of  newspapers,  and 
> were  sure  of  courteous  replies.  Afterward  he  came  to  be  virtually  one  of 
our  number,  to  which  position  we  were  the  readier  to  admit  him,  as  he 
also  had  been  a bridge-burner,  and  far  more  successful  than  ourselves. 


266  Daring  and  Suffering, 

I also  became  deeply  interested  in  an  old  man  in  an  adjoining  cage, 
who  was  awaiting  sentence  of  death.  He  had  been  known  as  a Union 
man,  and  one  night  a band  of  three  Secessionists  came  to  rob  him..  He 
resisted,  and  they  attacked  him  with  pistols  and  bowie-knives.  They 
chased  him  for  some  time  till,  in  dodging  around  some  barrels  in  an  out- 
building, he  got  hold  of  a pitchfork  and  plunged  it  into  his  foremost  assail- 
ant, and  then  escaped.  The  robber  died,  and  the  old  man  was  arrested 
on  a charge  of  murder.  I never  heard  the  final  result,  but  think  it  probable 
that  he  perished. 

We  received  with  great  pleasure  a paper  containing  an  account  of  the 

reached  equal  depths  of  regret  on 
the  news  of  his  recapture,  though 
we  did  not  hear  of  his  sentence. 
But  on  a day  not  long  after,  a 
paper  was  handed  to  us  by  a man 
who  turned  away  with  a face  so 
sad,  and  action  so  significant,  that 
we  knew  it  must  contain  heavy 
news.  A few  moments  justified  the 
fear.  It  was  the  full  account  of  the 
execution  of  Andrews  ! We  had 
been  engaged  in  all  kinds  of  games 
and  story-telling,  for  we  were  al- 
ways merry,  and  never  cherished 
gloomy  forebodings.  But  this 
news  hushed  all  noise  and  merri- 
ment, and  we  passed  the  whole  day 
in  the  most  heartfelt  mourning  for 
our  leader.  Yet  we  did  not  give 
up  hope  for  ourselves,  for  we  had 
always  understood  that  his  case 
was  more  serious  than  our  own. 

The  amount  of  provision  we  received  here  was  very  small,  and  we  suf- 
fered much  from  hunger.  A little  alleviation  was  provided  by  the  kind- 
ness of  outside  friends,  who  gave  us  a small  amount  of  money  with  which 
several  loaves  were  purchased — though  the  price  was  high.  Ross,  who 
was  a Freemason,  was  able  to  get  some  help  in  that  manner  which  he  was 
very  ready  to  share  with  his  comrades.  I also  met  with  a great  piece  of 
good  fortune.  Before  leaving  Chattanooga  I had  asked  the  Captain  of 
the  guard  if  he  could  not  borrow  a law-book  from  some  lawyer  for  me 
that  I might  have  it  to  read  during  the  terribly  long  days;  he  promised  to 
ask,  and  did  so.  Very  much  to  my  surprise,  he  brought  the  book.  When 
we  were  moved  it  had  to  be  returned,  and  I thought  that  my  prison  law« 


escape  of  Andrews.  The  next  day  we 


Judge  O.  P.  Temple.  From  a photograph. 


Knoxville, 


267 


studies  were  ended,  as  the  same  thing  could  hardly  occur  a second  time. 
But  from  some  of  the  Union  men  of  Knoxville  I heard  that  Judge  Tem- 
ple was  a most  -kindly  and  liberal  man  of  Union  sentiments.  I put  the 
^ matter  to  a practical  test  by  sending  him  a note  asking  for  a copy  of 
‘^Greenleaf  on  Evidence.”  It  came  promptly,  and  soon  after  I had  a 
visit  from  the  Judge  himself.  The  opportunity  for  studying  law  was  a 
grand  one.  I could  make  long  hours  and  corresponding  progress  ! At 
first  this  new  pursuit  afforded  no  small  amusement  to  the  prisoners  out- 
side, to  whom  the  sight  of  one  of  the  most  desperate  prisoners  ” shut  up 
I in  a cage,  yet  wearing  spectacles  and  reading  law  from  a huge  volume  by 
the  hour — sometimes  aloud,  when 
any  body  would  listen — was  ex- 
ceedingly ludicrous.  But  I had 
a double  profit  in  gaining  knowl- 
edge, and  passing  the  terrible 
hours  pleasantly. 

We  were  soon  visited  by  Cap- 
tain Leander  V.  Crook,  Judge 
Advocate,  and  probably  other 
members  of  the  court-martial, 
and  notified  of  the  trial.  He  told 
us  that  we  could  employ  counsel 
> if  we  could  find  any  one  to  serve. 

I at  once  thought  of  my  friend 
Temple  who  had  loaned  me 
“ Greenleaf,  and  although  it 
was  not  a very  good  return  for 
his  kindness,  to  put  upon  him  a 
^ laborious  and  possibly  dangerous 
task,  yet  I could  not  forbear  nam- 

. . Judge  Baxter.  From  a photograph. 

mg  him.  Temple  was  promptly 

sent  for,  and  I think  it  was  on  his  suggestion  that  we  also  sent  for  Col. 
Baxter.  Both  these  men  have  since  attained  to  high  positions  on  the 
bench,  and  were  of  first-class  ability.  We  could  not  have  done  better  had 
we  been  able  to  pay  a magnificent  fee.  The  safety  of  our  attorneys  de- 
manded that  the  whole  matter  be  put  on  a purely  professional  basis,  and 
they  accordingly  asked  us  to  sign  a note  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
eachc  The  prospect  for  obtaining  the  money  was  not  good;  but  it  was 
never  intended  that  the  notes  should  be  collected. 

When  we  learned  that  it  was  the  intention  of  trying  us  one  by  one  we 
protested  that  this  was  useless,  as  our  cases  were  precisely  alike.  If  one 
^ was  guilty,  so  were  all;  if  one  was  a prisoner  of  war  simply,  the  same  was 
true  of  all  the  others.  But  it  would  probably  have  looked  too  absurd  to 


268 


Daring  and  Suffering 


put  twelve  men  on  trial  as  spies  at  once,  and  our  request  was  refused. 
We  then  asked  that  one  be  tried  and  the  result  in  his  case  be  accepted  for 
all.  We  also  offered  to  tell  just  what  we  did,  thus  saving  them  all  trouble 
about  proof,  for  we  did  not  wish  to  deny  being  on  the  train,  or  engaged 
in  its  capture.  But  they  gave  us  a clear  intimation  that  they  knew  their 


The  old  Court  House  in  Knoxville  where  the  Court-Mai-tial  was  held. 


own  business  best,  and  we  were  obliged  to  take  it  in  the  manner  of  their 
choosing 

The  nature  of  the  charge  against  us  gave  some  uneasiness.  It  was  of 
being  spies^  and  of  lurking  about  Confederate  camps  as  spies,  and  hinged 
only  on  our  going  South  without  anything  being  said  of  the  capture  of 
the  train,  or  our  return.  This  was  suspicious;  but  we  were  led  by  their 
explanations  to  think  that  possibly  they  only  wanted  to  get  it  into  such  a 
form  that  we  could  consistently  say,  Not  Guilty,^'  without  denying  what 


Knoxville. 


269 


we  really  did.  But  afterward  we  found  the  intent  far  more  serious.  The 
charge  was  of  violating  a certain  section  of  their  Articles  and  Rules  of 
I War;  and  the  specifications  were  two — first,  coming  to  Chattanooga,  and 
lurking  as  a spy  about  the  Confederate  camp  there;  and  second,  going 
through  Dalton  and  Camp  McDonald  to  Marietta,  and  lurking  as  a spy 
in  those  places.  There  was  not  actually  any  lurking  about  any  of  these 
camps  or  posts.  We  only  sought  to  get  through  as  fast  as  possible. 

But  military  law  is  very  stern  and  summary.  When  men  are  making 
it  their  duty  and  ordinary  employment  to  kill  each  other,  it  is  not  to  be 
^ expected  that  they  will  stand  long  upon  the  dispatching  of  an  enemy  in 
their  power  if  fully  convinced  that  it  is  on  the  whole  to  their  advantage  to 
do  so.  What  we  have  good  reason  to  complain  of  in  this  case  is  not 
that  some  of  our  number  were  put  to  death — that  was  very  probable  from 
the  first.  But  nothing  could  justify  the  atrocious  rigor  of  our  long  im- 
prisonment, the  manner  in  which  false  hopes  were  encouraged,  or  the 
T awful  suddenness  by  which  sentence  was  executed.  No  apologist  for 
these  things  has  been  found  07i  the  Southern  Side. 

In  three  things  military  law  differs  widely  from  civil.  There  is  no 
challenge  of  jurors;  the  laws  of  evidence  are  very  loose,  and  a two-thirds 
majority  convicts.  These  things  go  far  to  explain  the  deadly  character 
of  courts-martial,  which  are  in  their  very  nature  “organized  to  convict.^' 
y But  we  did  not  understand  this  so  well  then  as  afterward. 

The  trials  began.  One  of  our  number  was  taken  out,  the  charges 
and  specifications  read,  a few  witnesses  heard,  and  then  he  was  returned 
to  us.  The  next  day  another  comrade  was  treated  in  the  same  manner. 
In  no  case  did  the  proceedings  occupy  any  great  period  of  time,  and  as 
each  one  was  a mere  repetition  of  those  that  went  before,  the  members  of 
the  court  soon  became  ver)^  inattentive.  The  only  real  question  was  one  of 
^ interpretation,  as  there  was  no  dispute  about  facts.  Did  the  mere  fact  o( 
our  having  come  into  the  territory  under  Confederate  authority,  in  ordinary 
dress,  render  us  worthy  of  death  ? And  if  so,  would  it  be  to  the  interest 
of  the  Confederacy  to  inflict  the  extreme  penalty,  and  in  what  time  and 
manner?  A tabular  view  may  perhaps  piit  the  whole  case  as  it  was  pre- 
sented to  the  court  more  vividly  before  the  reader.  These  items  only  are 
> given  which  were  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  the  court,  as  no  others  could 
have  had  an  influence  on  their  verdict. 


Against  us, 

1.  Though  Federal  soldiers,  we  were 
without  uniform. 

2.  We  had  passed  Chattanooga,  Dalton, 
^ and  Big  Shanty,  where  were  rebel  troops  ; 

and  reached  Marietta,  where  there  was  a 
rebel  military  school. 


For  us. 

1.  We  were  detailed,  without  our  knowl- 
edge or  consent,  for  what  we  believed  to  be 
a purely  military  expedition. 

2.  We  passed  no  rebel  pickets  and  did 
not  enter  any  camps. 

3.  We  had  a military  object,  which  we  ex- 


270 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


ecuted  as  promptly  and  quickly  as  pos- 
sible 

4.  We  dressed  like  citizens  to  avoid 
alarming  the  citizens  of  the  country  we  ^ 
passed  through 

5.  When  taken  before  regular  Confeder- 
ate authority,  we  claimed  to  be  soVdiers, 
giving  our  regiments  correctly 

6.  That  many  Confederates  who  were 
captured  within  Federal  lines  when  not  in 
uniform,  were  yet  held  by  the  Federals,  and  ^ 
that  it  was  unwise  to  provoke  retaliation. 

7.  That  many  orders  had  been  issued  by 
Confederate  commanders,  calling  upon  cit- 
izens to  burn  bridges  within  the  enemy’s 
lines.  Some  who  had  obeyed  were  now  in 
Federal  hands. 

8.  That  the  Confederate  Government 
had  expressly  authorized  their  citizens  to  do  t 
as  we  had  done. 

A great  part  of  the  testimony  above  in  our  favor  depended  upon  our 
own  admissions,  but  as  this  was  adduced  by  the  enemy  and  not  contra- 
dicted, they  could  not  know  how  much  of  it  was  overdrawn — especially  in 
reference  to  our  ignorance,  and  the  involuntary  character  of  our  service. 
Judges  Baxter  and  Temple  were  far  abler  men  than  any  on  the  court,  and  < 
therefore  managed  to  arrange  the  testimony  in  the  best  possible  manner. 
They  declared  to  us  that  all  the  plans  of  the  prosecution  had  been  de- 
ranged by  our  course  and  confidently  anticipated  a yercfict  of  acquittal. 
But  alas  1 they  were  more  familiar  with  civil  than  military  procedure.  The 
same  thing  was  intimated  by  officers  of  the  guard  and  by  members  of  the 
court  itself.^  It  is  no  wonder  that  we  were  confident  and  believed  that  a, 
protracted  imprisonment— perhaps  still  in  chains — was  the  worst  of  the 
evils  we  had  to  fear. 

No  one  of  the  prisoners  was  allowed  to  hear  the  pleading  of  counsel 
for  or  against  him,  and  each  case  was  completely  concluded  the  same  day 
it  was  begun;  but  the  decision  was  reserved  that  all  might  be  rendered 
and  approved  together.  I have  since  been  told  by  leading  Confederate 
officers  that  they  grew  very  tired  of  the  trials,  feeling  a deep  compassion 
for  us,  and  were  rejoiced  to  have  them  interrupted. 

George  D.  Wilson  related  an  incident  that  occurred  while  he  was  on 
trial,  which  showed  how  hard  they  were  put  to  their  wits  to  secure  effective 
evidence.  A young  lieutenant  volunteered  to  testify  as  to  at  least  one 
place  where  we  had  passed  a Confederate  picket  line.  When  put  on  the 

O' 

' Possibly  those  who  talked  in  this  manner  were  sincere^  but  were  outvoted  in  render- 
ing the  verdict. 


Knoxville, 


271 


stand,  he  declared  that  we  passed  the  guard  at  the  river  ferry  at  Chatta- 
nooga on  the  evening  of  our  first  arrival.  This  was  very  good,  but  im- 
> mediately  the  president  of  the  court  arose,  and  said  that  the  young  gen- 
tleman was  badly  mistaken,  as  he,  himself,  had  commanded  the  guard  at 
Chattanooga  that  day,  and  no  sentinels  were  stationed  at  the  ferry.  This 
raised  quite  a laugh  at  the  expense  of  the  lieutenant,  who  did  not  volun- 
teer any  more  testimony  ! 

The  request  to  hear  the  pleading  of  counsel  was  made  by  us  and  de- 


The  Court-Martial. 


nied.  This  was  the  more  strange  because  Andrews  nad  been  allowed  that 
privilege;  but  in  this,  as  in  several  other  particulars,  the  soldiers  were 
treated  more  harshly  than  their  leader.  After  several  of  the  trials  had 
passed,  Judge  Temple  visited  us  in  prison  and  read  the  plea  which  had 
been  composed  by  Judge  Baxter  and  himself,  and  read  on  each  trial.  It 
y was  an  able  paper  and  worthy  of  their  subsequent  fame.  They  contended 
that  the  whole  case  against  us  consisted  in  our  being  dressed  in  citizen’s 
clothes  instead  of  our  regular  uniform;  that  this  was  nothing  more  than 


272  . 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


what  Confederates  frequently  did,  sometimes  from  necessity  and  some- 
times for  their  own  advantage;  that  they  had  many  regiments  in  service 
that  were  not  yet  in  uniform,  and  that  they  had  expressly  encouraged 
guerilla  bands  to  raid  Federal  communications,  who  by  every  interpreta- 
tion of  law  should  fare  worse  than  we.  And  they  cited  the  instance  of 
Gen.  Morgan  having  dressed  his  men  in  Federal  uniform  and  passed  them 
off  as  part  of  the  8th  Pennsylvania  Cavalry,  by  which  means  he  succeeded  in 
reaching  and  destroying  a railroad.  Some  of  these  men  had  been  cap- 
tured by  the  Federal  Government  and  treated  as  prisoners  of  war.  They 
stated  further  that  we  had  freely  and  plainly  told  the  object  of  our  expedi- 
tion, which  was  purely  military,  for  the  destruction  of  communications, 
and  as  such  authorized  by  the  usages  of  warfare.  Judge  Advocate 
General  Holt  pronounced  this  ‘‘a  just  and  unanswerable  presentation  of 
the  case.”  But  we  never  could  tell  how  the  Judge  Advocate  answered 
this;  probably  he  did  not  wish  his  paper  to  be  brought  into  comparison 
with  that  of  Judges  Baxter  and  Temple  ! 

Each  day  began  and  finished  the  trial  of  a man.  I do  not  remember 
the  order  in  which  they  came.  There  seemed  to  be  no  rule  followed,  and 
probably  they  were  taken  just  as  they  happened  to  come  on  the  prison 
list.  The  table  in  the  court  room  was  covered  with  newspapers,  bottles 
and  novels.  For  a mere  formal  trial  this  was  well  enough;  and  I do  not 
suppose  that  it  was  intended  to  be  much  more,  or  that  the  members  had 
any  doubt  as  to  the  result  from  the  beginning. 

But  the  Confederates  were  not  destined  to  carry  out  their  intention  of 
bringing  us  all  to  trial,  one  at  a time.  Indeed,  it  proved  most  fortunate 
for  some  of  us  that  they  would  not  accede  to  our  request  that  all  be  tried  at 
once.  General  Mitchel  had  sent  Gen.  Negley  with  a considerable  force 
toward  Chattanooga,  and  thus  produced  the  panic  of  the  6th  of  June  to 
which  reference  has  already  been  made,  and  which  caused  the  scaffold  of 
Andrews  to  be  transferred  to  Atlanta.  In  such  an  emergency,  the  officers 
composing  the  court-martial  hurried  to  their  regiments.  Kirby  Smith 
expected  the  immediate  fall  of  Chattanooga,  and  of  the  rebel  dominion  in 
Tennessee.  Had  Mitchel  and  not  Buell  been  in  the  chief  command,  he 
would  not  have  been  disappointed;  but  as  it  was,  this  advance,  which 
Buell  strongly  disapproved,  saved  some  lives.  Probably  it  was  expected 
that  as  soon  as  the  danger  had  been  repelled,  or  matters  had  been  settled 
in  a new  department,  the  trials  would  be  resumed. 

But  when  the  Confederate  forces,  with  Smith  himself,  were  at  Chatta- 
nooga to  repel  the  danger  there,  another  as  formidable  arose  nearer  home. 
The  Federal  Gen.  Morgan,"  who  had  long  been  besieging  Cumberland 
Gap,  took  advantage  of  this  diversion,  to  turn  that  position  by  a difficult 
flank  movement  through  the  mountains,  and  to  threaten  Knoxville  itself. 


^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  I,  p.  57. 


Knoxville. 


273 


The  first  movement  stopped  the  trials;  the  second  rendered  our  speedy 
removal  necessary. 

A strong  guard  came  in  one  morning,  accompanied  by  two  or  three 
men  bearing  large  bundles  of  ropes.  These  were  suggestive  and  somewhat 
alarming.  Some  supposed  that  we  were  to  be  taken  out  for  immediate 
execution.  But  we  soon  learned  that  it  only  meant  another  change  of 
place.  The  guard  were  kind  enough  to  explain  that  our  irons  were  used 
in  sending  some  prisoners  to  Richmond,  so  they  were  obliged  to  use  ropes 
for  us.  They  tried,  however,  to  make  up  for  any  defect  in  the  material, 
by  a little  extra  liberality  in  amount.  They  first  tied  our  hands  very 
tightly  together;  then  fixing  our  arms  securely  in  the  loops  of  long  ropes^ 
bound  them  down  firmly  to  our  sides,  after  which  we  were  coupled  two 
and  two.  We  had  never  been  accustomed  to  so  much  solicitude  in  our 
own  country,  and  found  it  always  a novelty  at  each  change.  I should  have 
mentioned  that  w^hen  placed  in  the  cages  our  irons  were  removed  for  the 
first  time  by  the  Confederates — one  indication  of  hopefulness  that  was 
made  the  most  of  by  the  more  sanguine  members  of  the  band 

There  was  now  a considerable  difference  of  opinion  in  our  party  as  to 
our  future  prospects.  Wilson  was  hopeful  and  sure  that  we  could  not 
be  convicted.  The  greater  number  of  us  sided  with  him.  There  was 
one  notable  exception.  Marion  Ross  had  not  been  sanguine  from  his 
first  entrance  on  the  raid.  But  now  he  was  quite  gloomy,  without  being 
able  to  assign  any  reason  for  it.  The  only  cause  I can  conjecture  for  his 
not  sharing  our  hopes  is  the  following,  and  it  is  pure  surmise.  Ross  was 
our  only  Freemason,*  and  he  was  tolerably  well  advanced  in  the  order. 
The  Judge  Advocate  belonged  to  the  same  fraternity,  and  also  many  mem- 
bers of  the  court  and  other  officers  that  visited  us.  It  may  have  been 
that  some  of  these  gave  him  an  intimation  “on  the  square;’’  he  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  ask  them — and  I understand  that  they  would  be  bound 
to  answer,  and  even  if  they  did  not,  their  silence  would  be  significant — as 
to  whether  we  were  likely  to  be  acquitted.  If  he  did  receive  a hint  in  this 
way  which  he  was  not  permitted  to  share  with  his  comrades,  I can  scarcely 
conceive  a position  more  pitiable.  Often  when  we  were  most  boisterous 
in  innocent  sport  during  those  last  weeks,  he  would  look  around  on  us  with 
a sad  air,  as  if  he  could  tell  a story  that  would  overturn  all  the  hopes  we 
were  resting  upon 

While  the  guards  were  arranging  the  abundant  cotton  rope  they  had 
bestowed  upon  us,  I had  an  amusing  passage-at-words  with  the  adjutant 
who  was  superintending  the  operation.  I said  to  him  as  politely  as  I could, 

“ I suppose,  sir,  our  destination  is  not  known?  ’ 

“ It  is  not  known  to  you  at  any  rate,  sir,^’  was  the  somewhat  gruff  re- 
joinder. 

There  was  a little  laugh,  and  I felt  rather  beaten;  but  a moment  later 
18 


2/4  Daring  and  Suffering, 

came  my  chance  for  revenge.  He  turned  again  to  me  and  said,  in  a dicta- 
torial manner: 

“ Who  was  it  that  run  your  engine  through  ? ’’ 

I bowed  and  returned  in  the  blandest  manner,  but  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  by  all  in  the  room:  “ That  is  not  known  to  you  at  any  rate,  sir.” 

There  was  a hearty  laugh,  and  the  Adjutant,  reddening  to  .the  eyes, 
turned  away,  muttering  that  he  believed  I was  the  engineer  myself  ! 

A number  of  East  Tennesseeans  were  removed  with  us.  Among  them 
was  Captain  David  Fry,  and  I now  had  the  opportunity  of  learning  some- 
thing of  his  most  eventful  history.  Early  in  the  fall  of  i86i  he  had  gathered 
a company  of  his  E'nion  neighbors,  and  under  his  guidance  they  had  run 
the  gauntlet  of  guarded  roads,  and  rebel  scouts,  till  they  reached  the 
Federal  camp  in  Kentucky.  He  was  here  elected  Captain,  duly  commis- 
sioned,- and  served  for  some  time  at  the  head  of  Co.  F.  2nd.  Regt.  East 
Tennessee  Vols.  In  October  of  the  same  year  he  was  sent  by  Gen.  Carter 
back  into  East  Tennessee,  for  the  purpose  of  burning  the  bridges  on 
the  great  East  Tennessee  Railroad,  preparatory  to  a general  Federal  ad- 
vance for  the  deliverance  of  that  section  of  the  country.  The  govern- 
ment had  then  determined  on  such  an  advance  through  Cumberland  Gap, 
and  as  our  own  Gen.  Mitchel,  who  was  in  command  at  Cincinnati,  had  urged 
the  scheme,  with  the  offer  to  raise  all  the  necessary  troops  in  Ohio  and 
personally  lead  them,  there  seemed,  to  those  who  knew  his  energetic 
character,  no  reasonable  doubt  of  success.  The  force  at  the  disposal  of 
the  Confederates  was  not  large.  But  the  fear  that  Mitchel  might  by 
marching  across  the  department  of  Kentucky,  then  under  other  command, 
offend  delicate  military  sensibilities,  caused  the  permission  which  Mitchel 
had  received  for  such  an  advance  to  be  withdrawn,  and  for  nearly  two 
years  nothing  effectual  was  done  ! 

But  Fry,  with  all  assurances  of  support,  was  far  on  his  perilous  way, 
and  knew  nothing  of  this  change  of  plan.  He  soon  had  collected  enough 
of  his  neighbors,  who  had  perfect  confidence  in  him,  to  do  his  work 
effectually.  The  great  bridge  at  Strawberry  Plains  was  burned  with  many 
others,  and  all  reinforcements  by  rail  were  cut  off.  He  held  a consider- 
able mountain  district  in  Tennessee  and  North  Carolina  for  many  weeks; 
but  at  length  superior  rebel  forces  were  accumulated,  and  forced  him  to 
retreat.  Some  of  Fry’s  comrades  then  returned  to  the  Federal  force  that 
lay  not  far  from  Cumberland  Gap;  possibly  he  might  have  done  the  same, 
but  this  would  be  to  leave  those  who  had  assisted  him  in  the  work  of  de- 
stroying the  bridges  to  be  hunted  down  by  the  rebels  and  to  abandon  their 
wives  and  children  to  the  tender  mercies  of  their  enemies.  He,  there- 
fore, believing  that  the  time  would  be  short,  resolved  to  remain,  and  hold 
the  country  in  spite  of  adverse  fortune  till  the  Union  army  came.  All 
this  time  the  state  was  open  to  Federal  invasion  and  was  defended  almost 


Knoxville, 


275 

solely  by  Federal  military  etiquette!  The^  struggle  of  Fry  was  heroic. 
A number  of  sharp  skirmishes  were  fought,  but  the  rebels  sent  reinforce- 
ments as  fast  as  their  severed  communications  would  allow.  During  the 
whole  winter  Fry  kept  the  field,  on  one  occasion  seriously  threatening 
Knoxville.  In  March,  however,  he  despaired  and  determined  to  abandon 
the  unequal  struggle.  With  some  six  hundred  men  he  tried  to  fight  his 
way  through  to  the  Federal  forces.  At  the  foot  of  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains, about  ten  miles  from  Jonesboro,  he  was  attacked  by  an  overwhelm- 
ing rebel  force,  and  defeated,  his  men  scattered,  and  himself  badly 
wounded.  Soon  after  he  was  captured  and  taken  to  Knoxville,  where  he 
would  have  been  hanged  had  it 
not  been  for  a very  vigorous  let- 
ter ^ with  threats  of  retaliation 
from  Gens.  Morgan  and  Carter. 

He  had  thrown  a citizen^s  coat 
over  his  uniform  in  his  last  effort 
to  escape  and  this  was  held  to 
constitute  him  a spy.  He  was 
kept  in  the  most  rigorous  con- 
finement until  removed  with  us 
from  Knoxville,  and  for  months 
afterwards  he  shared  our  for- 
tunes. The  hardships  endured 
in  this  whole  adventure  were 
indescribable.  His  hair  and 
beard  were  black  when  he  left 
Kentucky  camp,  (as  shown  in 
the  accompanying  photograph,) 
but  when  I knew  him  a few 
months  later  both  were  almost 
white. 

On  this  long  journey  from  Knoxville  directly  to  Atlanta  we  carried  no 
rations,  and  as  we  now  had  no  guerilla  friends  to  supply  the  neglect  of 
their  officers,  we  were  obliged  to  fast  through.  A comparatively  weak 
guard  was  sent  along,  as  the  pressing  emergencies  of  the  Confederate  ser-; 
vice  which  had  compelled  our  removal  also  made  it  difficult  to  spare 
heavy  guards  for  the  prisoners  being  removed  in  different  directions. 
Our  attendants  had  barely  provisions  enough  for  themselves,  and  did  not, 
therefore,  feel  that  they  could  share  with  us.  On  the  way  the  populace — 
it  was  usually  the  worst  elements  of  the  towns  that  would  thus  gather 


' E.  Kirby  Smith  to  Gen.  Carter,  April  19th, 1862.  War  Records,  Series  I,,  VoL  XVI., 
Part  2. 


2/6 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


around  the  stations — taunted  us  with  Andrews’s  death,  and  charitably  hoped 
that  we  would  share  the  same  fate.  But  officers  talked  with  us  in  a differ- 
ent manner,  assuring  us  that  we  would  not  be  hurt.  This  threw  us  oft 
our  guard,  dividing  our  counsels,  and  causing  us  to  lose  a most,  favorable 
opportunity  to  escape, — the  very  effect,  I am  confident,  that  it  was  de- 
signed to  produce.  The  Captain  who  now  commanded  the  guard  was 
a simple,  honest-seeming  man,  who  talked  freely  and  assured  us  that  we 
were  in  danger  of  nothing  worse  than  being  kept  close  prisoners  until  the 
close  of  the  war.  He  had  heard,  he  declared,  high  officers  at  Knoxville, 
and  also  members  of  the  court-martial  say  that  it  was  required  by  public 
policy  to  put  to  death  Andrews,  who  had  deceived  them  so  terribly,  but 
that  not  one  of  the  enlisted  soldiers  would  suffer.  I do  not  think  that  he 
was  insincere,  but  that  he  had  been  told  these  things  that  he  might  impress 
them  upon  us.  Does  the  reader  think  that  I am  uncharitable  ? Let  him 
closely  read  the  sentence  of  the  court,  printed  on  a subsequent  page,  es- 
pecially the  clause  requiring  death  to  follow  immediately  on  publication — 
a clause  approved,  with  all  the  rest,  by  E.  Kirby  Smith,  and  then  judge 
for  himself  ! 

Ross  and  myself  favored  the  attempt  to  escape,  but  for  different  reasons. 
I was  deceived  by  the  assurances  of  the  enemy  as  completely  as  Wilson; 
but  I dreaded  the  continued  imprisonment,  ^and  was  willing  to  take  a good 
deal  of  risk  to  escape  that;  Ross  would  say  nothing,  except,  “ Let  us  go 
if  we  can;”  Brown  and  Knight,  always  bold  and  fearless,  were  ready  for 
the  effort.  But  Wilson,  who  had  great  ascendancy  over  us,  had  not  re- 
covered from  an  injury  which  would  have  rendered  his  own  escape  diffi- 
cult; he  thought  some  of  us  would  be  sure  to  die  in  the  attempt  (which 
was  likely):  while  if  we  did  nothing,  we  would  soon  be  released  by  the 
collapse  of  the  rebellion,  which  he  thought  very  near,  as  he  still  had  faith 
in  McClellan  (which  I had  lost).  We  were  all  night  on  the  cars,  and 
toward  morning  the  guards  were  nearly  all  asleep,  so  that  by  watching  our 
chance,  and  giving  a word  here  and  another  there,  I managed  to  know  the 
sentiments  of  nearly  all  our  party.  Had  the  word  been  given,  even  those 
who  opposed  the  scheme  would  have  responded  as  well  as  the  others. 
Though  so  well  tied,  it  was  with  new  cotton  rope,  which  stretches  greatly, 
and  by  shifting  around  and  “ settling  ” in  it,  the  most  of  us  had  our  fasten- 
ings in  such  a condition  that  we  could  have  been  practically  loose  whenever 
we  chose.  The  guards,  with  their  muskets,  were  in  the  same  seats  with  us, 
and  we  would  have  had  the  muskets  in  an  instant,  and  they  would  have 
been  at  our  mercy.  I never  felt  more  anxiety  to  undertake  an  enterprise. 
Capt,  Fry  also  favored  it,  but  the  opposition  of  Wilson  was  too  strong. 
Alas  ! he  was  throwing  away  his  last  chance  of  life,  and  knew  it  not ! 
All  these  discussions  and  proposals  took  place  north  of  Chattanooga 
and  in  the  night,  where  we  could-  easily  have  uncoupled  our  car,  and. 


Knoxville, 


277 

with  our  muskets,  have  struck  at  once  into  the  mountains  of  East  Ten- 
nessee. 

I When  morning  came  and  we  passed  south  of  Chattanooga  we  felt  that 
tne  opportunity  was  gone. 

Finally  we  reached  Atlanta.  Here  Andrews  had  perished  but  a few 
days  before,  and  it  was  to  be  the  last  earthly  abode  of  some  of  our  number; 
and  from  it  none  of  us  were  to  escape  without  great  perils,  and  long  and 
wearisome  imprisonment.  Before  we  left  the  cars  a man  calling  himself 
the  Mayor  of  Atlanta  came  up,  and  began  to  insult  Captain  Fry,  telling 
^ him  that  he  knew  him  well,  that  he  was  a great  rascal,  and  that  he  hoped 
soon  to  have  the  pleasure  of  hanging  him.  Then  turning  to  us,  he  boasted 
that  he  had  put  the  rope  around  Andrews’s  neck,  and  was  waiting  and 
anxious  to  do  the  bame  for  us  ! I was  afterwards  told  that  this  man’s 
name  was  Col.  O.  H.  Jones. 

From  the  depot  we  were  marched  quite  a long  distance.  The  after- 
5 noon  was  delightful.  The  insulting  mob  did  not  follow  us,  and  as  we 
looked  upon  the  beautiful  residences  which  v/e  passed,  everything 
seemed  so  calm  and  peaceful  that  it  was  difficult  to  realize  our  perilous 
position. 

The  city  jail  to  which  v/e  were  taken  was  a large  square  brick  edifice, 
smaller  than  that  at  Knoxville,  but  still  of  considerable  size.  The  lower 
^ story  was  occupied  by  the  jailer  and  his  family,  while  the  four  rooms  in 
the  upper  story  were  devoted  to  prisoners.  Captain  Fry  with  our  party 
occupied  one  of  these;  the  Tennesseeans,  brought  at  the  same  time,  were 
put  in  the  room  just  across  the  entry  from  us.  The  eight  comrades  who 
had  been  separated  from  us  at  Chattanooga  were  already  in  another  of 
these  rooms;  and  the  fourth  had  various  tenants,  sometimes  being  oc- 
cupied by  negroes  who  had  been  allured  from  their  lawful  masters  by  the 
^ North  Star. 

At  first  we  were  comparatively  well  fed  here.  Mr,  Turner,  the  jailer, 
was  a Union  man  at  heart  and  sympathized  with  us;  but  he  was  soon  sus- 
pected of  being  too  favorable,  and  an  odious  old  man  named  Thoer  was 
put  with  him  in  the  double  character  of  assistant  and  spy.  The  change 
was  at  once  manifest.  The  food  came  down  to  the  starvation  point,  so 
\ that  there  was  reason  to  fear  that  we  might  actually  perish  with  hunger;  ' 
and  all  those  little  attentions  which  prisoners  put  such  a pitiful  value  upon' 
were  withdrawn.  This  made  our  condition  worse  than  it  had  been  in 
Knoxville;  but  we  had  been  trained  in  a thorougji  school  as  far  as  hard- 
ships were  concerned,  and  made  no  complaint.  Indeed  the  first  week  we 
spent  here  was  marked  by  comparative  quietness  and  hope.  There  was 
no  word  of  any  further  court-martialing,  and  those  of  our  number  who  be- 
lieved our  lives  would  be  spared  made  converts  seemingly  of  all  the  rest 
— all  but  poor  Ross,  who  looked  so  mournful  and  hopeless,  while  refusing 


278 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


to  argue  on  the  subject,  that  we  sometimes  thought  that  our  terrible  hard- 
ships had  possibly  somewhat  affected  his  mind.  If  he  had  received 
Masonic  intimations  of  danger,  which  he  was  bound  not  to  impart  to  us, 
his  gloom  and  depression  are  easily  explained.  But  the  overthrow  of  all 
our  hopes  was  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A DAY  OF  BLOOD. 


After  the  lapse  of  twenty-five  years  my  hand  still  trembles  as  I 
endeavor  to  copy  the  account  of  the  most  fearful  tragedy  of  the 
civil  war.  The  young  men  who  died  on  this  day  of  horror  were 
from  twenty  to  thirty  years  of  age.  They  were  guilty  of  no  crime;  for 
their  offense  in  its  real  essence  was  only  that  of  being  willing  to  meet 
danger  for  their  country's  sake.  Had  they  been  selected  to  lead  a for- 
lorn hope  in  storming  the  enemy^s  entrenchments  they  would  have  felt 
that  duty  forbade  them  to  decline  the  perilous  honor.  They  were  selected 
for  work  of  great  peril,  and  as  good  soldiers  they  did  not  shrink  from  it. 
In  the  7na7mer  of  performing  the  duty  upon  which  they  had  been  sent, 
there  was  nothing  to  which  the  enemy  himself  could  find  the  slightest  ob- 
jection. Indeed,  Confederate  officers  had  frequently  gone  out  of  their 
way  to  express  admiration  for  the  dauntless  bravery  of  the  men  whom 
they  now  sought  to  overwhelm  with  dishonor  in  death.  To  have  died  in 
the  execution  of  their  task  would  have  been  sorrowful,  but  only  an  inci- 
dent of  war.  Death  in  the  moment  of  passion  and  vengeance  following 
capture  would  have  seemed  far  less  terrible;  but  to  first  keep  them  so 
long,  to  encourage  hopes  that  were  only  doomed  to  disappointment,  and 
to  cause  sufferings  of  such  fearful  character  in  imprisonment,  has  not  been 
justified. 

Yet  it  must  be  distinctly  understood  that  the  people  of  Atlanta  were  in. 
no  degree  responsible  directly  or  indirectly  for  the  tragedy.  So  manifest 
were  their  sympathies  on  the  other  side  that  no  account  was  allowed  to  be 
published.  Yet  the  whole  city  was  filled  with  the  fame  of  the  deed  and 
with  emphatic  condemnation  of  it.  This  feeling  was  so  general  that 
Provost  Marshal  Lee  referred,  in  an  official  report^  five  months  after,  to 
“the  great  number  of  sympathizers.’’  But  we  will  hasten  through  the 
fearful  narrative. 

The  1 8th  of  June  was  a bright  summer  day.  Our  party  in  the  jail 
were  making  merry  with  games  and  songs,  utterly  unsuspicious  of  evil. 
But  one  of  our  number,  looking  out  of  the  window,  saw  a squadron  of 


* War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  p.  639, 


28o 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


cavalry  approaching  and  called  attention  to  it.  There  was  nothing  un- 
usual about  this,  for  we  often  noticed  bands  of  troops  on  the  streets;  but 
they  no'(^  halted  at  our  gate  and  surrounded  our  prison.  This  was  unusual 
and  sta*  ling. 

Ty  1 doors  downstairs  opened.  We  heard  the  shuffle  of  feet  in  the 
halL  und  the  clink  of  officers’  sabres  as  they  ascended  the  stairway.  We 
held  our  breath  in  painful  attention,  while  they  paused  at  our  door,  un- 
locked and  threw  it  open,  and  then  one  of  the  number,  stepping  before 
'he  others,  read  the  names  of  our  seven  comrades  who  had  been  tried  at 
fCnoxville.  They  were  ordered  to  respond  and  stand  in  a line  before  him, 
which  they  did.  Robinson  was  sick  with  fever,  but  a guard  assisted  him 
to  rise,  and  he  stood  with  the  rest.  Then  they  were  all  told  to  follow  over 
into  the  opposite  room,  while  the  Tennesseeans  there  were  brought  in 
return  to  us. 

With  throbbing  hearts  we  asked  one  another  the  meaning  of  these 
strange  proceedings.  Some  supposed  our  comrades  were  about  to  receive 
their  acquittal;  others,  still  more  sanguine,  that  they  were  to  be  parolled, 
preparatory  to  an  exchange.  But  we  had  no  confidence  in  these  sugges- 
tions even  while  we  made  them.  It  would  not  have  been  necessary  to  sur- 
round the  prison  for  such  purposes;  and  the  faces  of  the  officers  who  had 
entered  our  room  were  solemn  and  stern. 

I was  sick,  too,  having  suffered  a good  deal  recently  with  malarial 
fever,  but  rose  to  my  feet  oppressed  with  unutterable  fear — the  most 
deadly  I ever  remember  feeling.  A half-witted  fellow  who  had  been  put 
in  with  the  Tennesseeans,  came  to  me  and  wanted  to  play  a game  of  cards  ! 
I had  been  fond  of  the  game,  but  never  played  it  after  this  day  ! Now  I 
struck  the  greasy  pack  from  hie  hand  and  bade  him  leave  me. 

From  over  the  way  we  heard  the  sound  of  voices,  muffled  and  indis- 
tinct because  of  the  two  iron  doors  between;  then  the  opening  and  shut- 
ting of  doors,  the  passage  of  several  persons  up  and  down  the  stairway, 
and  last  the  sound  as  of  solemn  reading. 

A little  while  after — I cannot  judge  of  the  length  of  time  spent  in  such 
fearful  agony — the  ministers  in  the  other  room  think  it  must  have  been 
more  than  an  hour — the  door  opened,  and  our  comrades  came  back,  one 
by  one,  but  the  change  in  them  was  fearful  ! My  own  friend.  Geo.  D. 
Wilson,  was  leading,  his  step  firm,  and  his  form  erect,  but  his  hands  firmly 
tied,  and  his  face  pale  as  death.  What  is  it?”  some  one  asked  in  a 
whisper,  for  his  appearance  silenced  every  one. 

“ IVe  are  to  be  executed  immediately was  the  appalling  reply,  given  in 
a low  tone,  but  with  thrilling  distinctness.  The  others  followed  him  into 
the  room,  all  tied  ready  for  the  scaffold.  The  officers  were  standing  in 
the  door,  and  barely  granted  them  the  privilege  of  taking  us  once  more 
by  the  hand  before  death.  Then  came  the  farewells,  hopeless  in  this 


A Day  of  Blood,  281 

world  ! It  was  a moment  that  seemed  an  age  of  measureless,  heart-break- 
ing sorrow. 

What  had  occurred  in  the  other  room  while  we  were^  separated  ? The 
narrative " of  the  ministers  will  make  that  plain. 

Rev.  W.  J,  Scott  was  requested  by  Col.  G.  J.  Foreacre,  then  Provost 
Marshal  in  Atlanta,  to  visit  some  Federal  prisoners  at  the  city  jail  who 
were  about  to  die.  On  his  way,  Mr.  Scott  called  on  Rev.  Geo.  G.  N. 
MacDonell  and  asked  him  to  go  along.  At  the  jail  they  were  taken  into 
the  room  where  our  comrades  were.  Scott  says: 

^ “ They  impressed  me  at  once  as  a body  of  remarkably  fine-looking 

young  men.  I could  but  notice  also  their  cheerfulness  under  such  painful 
environments.’'  He  told  them 
that  he  was  the  bearer  of  unwel- 
come tidings.  This  arrested  their 
attention^  but  they  were  still  un- 
^ prepared  for  the  blow  that  fol- 
lowed. Then  Scott  with  the  brev- 
ity which  was  the  best  kindness, 
with  a few  questions  answered, 
gave  the  full  truth,  every  word 
being  like  an  added  stab;  telling 
them  that  they  had  been  found 
^ guilty  at  Knoxville — of  being 
spies — -that  they  were  to  die — to 
die  by  hanging — and  at  once  ! 

Their  natural  and  indignant  pro- 
tests were  waved  aside  as  some- 
thing with  which  the  ministers 
t had  nothing  to  do;  their  only 
business  was  to  help  the  doomed 
menx  by  prayer  and  counsel  to 
prepare  for  death,  and  the  hour  was  at  hand.  Anxiety  and  even  horror 
was  in  an  instant  depicted  on  every  countenance.  When  they  asked  “ How 
soon?’-’  he  answered,  “In  less  than  two  hours.”  This  was  probably  a 
, merciful  over-statement.  The  hearts  of  the  preachers  upon  whom  had 
been  rolled  the  fearful  task  of  first  communicating  this  terrible  intelli- 
gence, were  very  heavy.  Scott  adds — “ They  were  gallant  men,  who 
would  have  stood  unshaken  in  the  imminent  deadly  breach.  They  were 
picked  men,  chosen  for  their  soldierly  qualities;  yet  in  a moment  every 
cheek  blanched  to  the  lily’s  whiteness.  In  another  moment,  however, 

they  rallied  and  appeared  firm  and  unflinching.”  Scott  and  MacDonell 
\ 

^ “An  Episode  of  the  War” — a chapter  in  a book  published  by  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott, 
in  Atlanta,  1886,  entitled  From  Lincoln  to  Cleveland. 


282 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


then  gave  them  such  counsel  as  the  dying  need,  recited  to  them  appro- 
priate Scripture  passages,  and  prayed  with  them. 

What  followed  is  so  extraordinary  that  it  is  fully  given  in  Mr.  Scott’s 
own  language  with  only  two  remarks.  The  “few  hours’  notice”  was 
virtually  no  notice  at  all,  as  according  to  Mr.  Scott’s  own  words,  all  the^ 
time  was  taken  up  with  clerical  and  official  preparation.  From  the  mo- 
ment the  awful  news  was  communicated  there  was  no  pause  save  for  the 
prayer  of  the  minister,  the  reading  of  the  sentence,  the  -binding  for  the 
scaffold,  and  the  clasp  of  hands  with  friends.  This  was  all. 

We  had  often  said  to  each  other  that,  no  matter  who  else  might  perish, 
Ross  in  some  way  would  escape  by  reason  of  his  high  standing  as  a Mason. 
Probably  the  following  narrative  shows  better  than  anything  else  the  fear- 
ful resolution  with  which  this  deed  of  blood  was  carried  through  to  the 
utmost  extreme.  Mr.  Scott  continues: 

“ As  we  rose  from  our  knees  one  of  them — I am  not  sure  at  this  late  day  whether 
Ross  or  Campbell — gave  me  a Masonic  signal  which  craftsmen  are  only  permitted  to  use 
in  seasons  of  supreme  peril.  I recognized  it  instantly  and  took  him  aside  and  satisfied 
myself  that  he  was  a ‘ son  of  light.’  No  one  who  has  never  been  raised  from  a dead 
level  to  a living  perpendicular  can  appreciate  my  feelings.  I said  with  a faltering  voice: 

“ ‘ My  brother,  I will  do  what  I can  for  you  consistently  with  my  obligations  to  the 
government  to  which  I owe  allegiance.’ 

“ He  replied:  ‘ I ask  for  nothing  more  We  are  about  to  be  executed  with  only  a few 
hours’  notice.  We  bad  no  intimation  of  it  until  you  informed  us.  Now,  can  you  not 
prevail  on  the  military  authorities  to  respite  us  one  or  two  days  ? ’ 

“ I replied:  ‘ I will  make  an  honest  effort.’ 

“The  other  prisoners  must  have  heard  a portion  of  the  conversation,  for  they 
seemed  quite  elated. 

“ I knew  that  I must  act  promptly,  so  leaving  brother  MacDonell  to  talk  with  them, 

I left  the  cell  and  went  down  into  the  front  prison-yard  where  a squadron  of  cavalry  were 
already  drawn  up.  They  had,  I found,  been  waiting  quietly  for  our  appearance.  Colonel 
W.  J.  Lawton  had  on  that  day  assumed  command  of  the  post.  He  was  an  old  and  highly 
esteemed  personal  friend.  I told  him  what  had  transpired  in  the  cell,  and  urged  him  to 
respite  them  at  least  until  the  next  day;  that  to  execute  them  on  such  short  notice  would 
be  utterly  indefensible;  that  he  could  easily  cut  off  all  possibility  of  escape  He  was  a 
r»an  of  generous  impulses,  and  I saw  he  was  greatly  troubled  and  perplexed.  He  replied: 

“ ‘ I agree  to  all  you  say.  I would  most  gladly  afford  them  relief,  but,’  he  continued, 

‘ my  orders  are  peremptory.  I am  required  to  execute  them  to-day  and  have  not  the 
slightest  discretion.  If  I disobey  my  orders  I am  liable  to  be  cashiered  and  disgraced.’ 

“ He  proposed  to  show  me  his  orders,  but  I told  him  his  statement  was  sufficient. 

“ I was  compelled  to  return  and  announce  my  failure.  I was  then  asked  if  I would 
transmit  some  messages  to  their  friends.  I said  certainly,  if  the  military  authorities  would 
allow  it.  They  then  dictated  their  messages,  brother  MacDonell  writing  three  in  his  mem- 
orandum-book and  I writing  four  in  mine.  There  were  but  slight  verbal  differences  in 
their  messages,  and  the  following  may  be  taken  as  a sample  of  the  whole 

“ ‘ I am  to  suffer  death  this  afternoon  for  my  loyalty.  I am  true  to  tne  old  flag  and 
trust  in  God’s  mercy  for  salvation.’ 

“ The  name  of  the  party  and  number  of  his  regiment  was  attached. 


A Day  of  Blood,  283 

“ The  messages  were  not  sent  because  of  some  technical  objections  at  the  War  Depart- 
ment.” ^ 

^ Immediately  after  this  failure  to  get  the  least  respite  in  the  inexorable 
orders,  the  officers  read  the  sentence  of  the  court-martial.  It  is  here 
appended,  and  will  explain  the  feverish  hurry  of  the  executioners: 

SENTENCE  OF  THE  COURT-MARTIAL. 

“ Headquari  ers  Department  East  Tennessee, 

^ “ Knoxville,  June  14, 1862. 

“ General  Orders^  No.  54.  VII. 

“ At  a general  court-martial  held  at  Knoxville  by  virtue  of  General  Orders  Nos.  21 
and  34  (Department  Headquarters,  April  15  and  May  10,  1862),  whereof  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  J.  B.  Bibb,  of  the  Twenty-third  Regiment  Alabama  Volunteers,  was  president, 
was  tried  George  D.  Wilson,  private  Company  ‘ B,’  Second  Ohio  Regiment,  on  the  fol- 
lowing charge  and  specifications,  to  wit: 

“ Charge. — Violation  of  Section  2d  of  the  loist  Article  of  the  Rules  and  Articles  of 
*War. 

“ Specification  ist. — In  this,  that  the  said  George  D.  Wilson,  private  Company  ‘ B,’ 
Second  Ohio  Regiment,  not  owing  allegiance  to  the  Confederate  States  of  America,  and 
being  in  the  service  and  army  of  the  United  States,  then  and  now  at  war  with  the  Confed- 
erate States  of  America,  did,  on  or  about  the  7th  day  of  April,  1862,  leave  the  Army  of 
the  United  States,  then  lying  near  Shelbyville,  Tennessee,  and  with  a company  of  about 
twenty  other  soldiers  of  the  United  States  army,  all  dressed  in  citizens’  clothes,  repair  to 
I Chattanooga,  Tennessee,  entering  covertly  within  the  lines  of  the  Confederate  forces  at 
that  post,  and  did  thus,  on  or  about  the  iith  day  of  April,  1862,  lurk  as  a spy  in  and 
about  the  encampment  of  said  forces,  representing  himself  as  a citizen  of  Kentucky  going 
to  join  the  Southern  army. 

“ Specification  2d. — And  the  said  George  D.  Wilson,  private  Company  ‘ B,’  Second 
Ohio  Regiment,  U.  S.  A.,  thus  dressed  in  citizen’s  clothes,  and  representing  himself  as  a 
citizen  of  Kentucky  going  to  join  the  Southern  army,  did  proceed  by  railroad  to  Mar- 
ietta, Georgia, — thus  covertly  pass  through  the  lines  of  the  Confederate  forces  stationed 
^at  Chattanooga,  Dalton,  and  Camp  McDonald,  and  did  thus,  on  or  about  the  iith  day  of 
April,  1862,  lurk  as  a spy  in  and  about  the  said  encampment  of  the  Confederate  forces  at 
the  places  stated  aforesaid. 

“To  which  charge  and  specifications  the  prisoner  pleads  ‘ Not  Guilty.’ 

“ The  court,  after  mature  deliberation,  find  the  accused  as  follows:  Of  the  ist  spec- 
ification of  the  charge,  ‘ Guilty.’  Of  the  2d  specification  of  the  charge,  ‘ Guilty,’  and 
‘ Guilty  of  the  Charge.’  And  the  court  do  therefore  sentence  the  accused,  the  said  George 
>D.  Wilson,  private  Company  ‘ B,’  Second  Ohio  Regiment  (two-thirds  of  the  members  con- 
curring therein),  as  soon  as  this  order  shall  be  made  public,  ‘ to  be  hung  by  the  neck  until 
he  is  dead.’ 


Approval  and  Order  for  Execution. 

“ The  proceedings»in  the  foregoing  case  of  George  D.  Wilson,  private  Company  ‘ B,’ 
Second  Ohio  Regiment,  are  approved. 

“ The  sentence  of  the  court  will  be  carried  into  effect  between  the  I5tb  and  22d  days 


* From  Lincoln  to  Cleveland  Rev.  W.  J.  Scott,  pp.  148-162.  Atlanta,  18S6. 


284 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


of  June,  inst.,  at  such  time  and  place  as  may  be  designated  by  the  commanding  officer  at 
Atlanta,  Georgia,  who  is  charged  with  the  arrangements  for  the  proper  execution  thereof. 

“ By  command  of 

Major-General  E.  Kirby  Smith.  % 

‘‘ J.  F.  Breton,  A.A.A.G. 

‘‘To  Commanding  Officer  of  Post  at  Atlanta,  Ga.”  ^ 

This  sentence  allows  no  respite  for  a moment,  but  as  soon  as  it  shall  be 
7nade  public  the  accused  is  to  be  hung  by  the  neck  until  he  is  dead.  The 
words,  “made  public,^*  have  only  one  interpretation.  They  mean,  when 
the  accused  himself  is  notified.  They  cannot  refer  to  newspaper  publica-  ’ 
tion,  for  this  was  never  intended,  and  did  not  take  place  till  the  Con- 
federacy, with  all  its  blood  and  iniquity,  had  passed  from  the  realm  of 
existing  things — until  its  archives  had  been  captured  at  Richmond  and  the 
seal  of  secresy  removed  by  loyal  arms.  This  clause  was  placed  deliber- 
ately by  the  court  in  the  sentence  and  signed  by  the  commanding  general. 
For  what  purpose  ? Two  conjectures  may  be  offered  with  some  plausi- , 
bility:  we  were  deceived  with'  hope  to  make  us  the  quieter  in  prison,  and 
it  was  probably  intended  when  the  awakening  came  to  give  us  no  time  for 
the  desperate  efforts  to  escape  that  might  be  anticipated.  When  this 
clause  was  first  inserted,  it  was  probably  thought  that  all  the  band  would 
be  convicted  in  the  same  manner,  and  then  in  one  terrible  hour  all  would 
be  swept  away  with  no  opportunity  to  leave  any  word  behind  ! The  refusal 
to  send  a harmless  message  to  friends — a privilege  that  would  not  be 
denied  to  the  most  infamous  criminal — agrees  with  this  view. 

It  was  the  manner  of  death  rather  than  death  itself  which  seemed  so 
horrible  to  our  comrades  as  they  took  their  last  leave  of  us.  Most  of 
them  were  also  without  any  clear  hope  beyond  the  grave.  A day,  even, 
to  have  sought  Divine  favor  would  have  been  a priceless  boon.  Wilson 
was  a professed  unbeliever,  and  many  a time  had.  argued  the  truth  of  the  < 
Christian  religion  with  me  half  a day  at  a time;  but  he  said,  “ Pittenger, 

I believe  you  are  right  now  ! try  to  be  better  prepared  when  you  come  to 
die  than  I am.'^  I could  scarcely  release  his  hand  as  he  muttered,  “ God 
bless  you,^*  and  turned  away. 

Shadrack  was  careless,  generous,  and  merry,  though  often  excitable, 
and  sometimes  profane.  Now  he  turned  to  us  with  a forced  calmness  of  ^ 
voice  which  was  more  affecting  than  a wail  of  agony,  as  he  said, 

“ Boys,  I am  not  prepared  to  meet  my  Jesus.  “ 

When  asked  by  some  of  us,  whose  tears  were  flowing  fast,  to  think  o( 
heavenly  mercy,  he  answered,  still  in  tones  of  thrilling  calmness,  ‘‘Fll 
try,  I’ll  try,  but  I know  I am  not  prepared. 

Slavens  who  was  a man  of  immense  strength  and  iron  resolution,  turned 
to  his  friend  Buffum  and  could  only  articulate,  “wife — children — tell’^ — • ^ 
when  utterance  failed. 


A Day  of  Blood. 


285 


John  Scott  was  well  educated,  and  had  left  a very  pleasant  home  in 
Findlay,  Ohio.  Father,  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters  have  always  been 
^ among  the  most  respected  of  the  citizens  there.  He  had  been  married 
but  three  days  before  enlisting,  and  now  the  thought  of  his  young  and 
sorrowing  wife  nearly  drove  him  to  despair.  He  could  only  clasp  his 
hands  in  silent  agony. 

Campbell  had  a half  smile  on  his  strong  face,  but  it  was  terribly  unreal, 
with  no  light  in  it  as  he  pressed  our  hands,  and  even  muttered  an  uncon- 
scious oath,  saying.  Yes,  boys,  this  is  — hard."* 

• But  Ross  was  a marvel  and  wonder  to  us  all.  The  cloud  that  had 
rested  upon  him  so  long  seemed  to  have  completely  rolled  away.  All 
foreboding  and  fear  were  gone  in  the  presence  of  the  reality.  Others  were 
bitterly  and  terribly  disappointed;  he  was  not.  The  gaunt  spectre  he  had 
so  long  faced  now  came  out  of  the  shadow,  and  lo  ! it  was  disrobed  of  all 
terror  ! He  was  perfectly  erect,  with  easy  grace;  there  was  not  a sign  of 
I dread,  while  his  eye  beamed  and  his  whole  face  became  radiant  with  the 
martyr’s  joy.  “ Tell  them  at  home,”  he  said,  in  a clear  vibrating  tone, 
“ if  any  of  you  escape,  that  I died  for  my  country  and  did  not  regret  it.” 

Brown,  Knight,  Buffum,  Mason  and  myself — all  that  were  left  of  the 
Knoxville  party — were  even  more  affected  than  our  comrades,  for  we  had  not 
the  awful  excitement  of  coming  death  to  sustain  us.  Had  there  been  a 
gleam  of  hope  of  success  how  gladly  would  we  have  thrown  ourselves  on 
the  guards,  and  fought  for  the  lives  of  our  brothers  ! But  the  officers  and 
the  guard  filled  the  door  and  the  entry,  while  the  jail-yard  was  also  full 
of  enemies.  The  sense  of  our  absolute  helplessness  was  most  agonizing. 

All  this  transpired  in  a very  few  minutes,  and  even  then  the  Marshal 
and  others  with  him  in  the  door  showed  signs  of  impatience,  and  urged 
that  their  time  was  short.  I cannot  help  believing,  for  the  sake  of  our 
> common  humanity,  that  -they  wished  to  hasten  only  because  the  scene  was 
becoming  too  painful  for  them  to  bear. 

Very  brief  leave-taking  was  permitted  with  the  eight  who  were  in  the 
other  room.  Robinson,  who  could  scarcely  stand,  was  hurried  off  with 
the  rest.  We  heard  the  dreadful  procession  descend  the  stairs,  and  then 
from  the  window  saw  them  enter  the  death-cart  and  drive  away.  It  was 
I surrounded  by  cavalry,  and  thus  passed  out  of  sight.  In  about  an  hour 
the  procession  returned.  The  cart  was  empty! 

On  leaving  us  the  procession  had  taken  a course  which  soon  carried 
them  out  of  sight  over  the  summit  of  an  adjoining  hill,  and  continued  in 
an  easterly  direction  till  it  reached  the  Atlanta  city  cemetery- — a distance 
of  probably  two  miles.  What  thoughts  crowded  through  the  hearts  of  the 
doomed  men  we  know  not;  but  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  in  this  last  hour  of 
^ life,  they  realized  that  God  was  more  merciful  than  man,  and  found  that 
pardon  which  is  never  denied  to  those  who  sincerely  seek. 


286 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


The  cemetery  is  beautifully  located  and  finely  kept.  The  scaffold  had 
been  built  in  a little  wood  at  the  south-eastern  side  of  the  yard,  then  out- 
side, but  since  included  in  its  boundaries.  A monument  to  the  Con- 
federate dead  has  since  been  erected  in  this  cemetery,  and  a large  portion 
of  land  deeded  by  the  cemetery  association  for  their  burial,  anddt  was  at 
the  edge  of  this  plot  that  the  great  tragedy  took  place.  No  element  of 
melancholy  horror  was  omitted.  A shallow  trench  had  been  already  dug 
within  a few  feet  of  the  long  and  hideous  scaffold,  so  that  the  men  as  they 
drove  up  could  look  upon  their  own  open  grave.  The  scaffold  which  had 
just  been  completed,  consisted  of  a single  long  beam  extending  from  one 
tree  to  another,  to  which  the  ropes  were  attached,  and  a narrow  platform 
of  loose  plank  extending  under  this,  so  arranged  that  the  knocking  out  of 
props  would  cause  it  to  fall.  A considerable  number  of  spectators  were 
present,  but  not  nearlv  so  many  as  attended  the  execution  of  Andrews — 
no  general  gathering  of  the  citizens  being  permitted — indeed  the  prepara- 
tions had  been  carried  on  as  secretly  as  possible. 

Captain  Fuller,  who  had  chased  the  men  on  the  cars  and  attended  the 
trial  at  Knoxville,  was  here  also  to  see  the  end.  He  had  been  moved  to 
come  by  a promise  which  he  as  a Mason  had  made  to  Ross,  that  he  would 
mark  the  spot  of  his  burial,  and  notify  his  father,  in  Ohio.  He  was  faith- 
ful to  his  promise,  though  the  notification,  owing  to  the  policy  of  the  Con- 
fedei'ate  War  Department,  could  not  be  made  until  the  close  of  the  war. 

Our  comrades  mounted  the  scaffold  by  means  of  steps  from  behind, 
and  then  stood,  all  seven,  side  by  side,  with  the  ropes  dangling  beside 
them.  At  the  foot  of  the  steps.  Fuller  shook  hands  with  Ross,  for  whom 
he  declares  he  had  come  to  feel  a deep  friendship.  The  clergymen,  with 
their  souls  in  indignant  protest  against  the  manner  of  death,  had  not  ac- 
companied the  procession.  There  was  no  help,  and  in  a few  moments 
death  in  its  most  awful  form  was  to  come. 

Yet  the  bravery  of  the  seven  was  such  as  to  command  the  admiration 
even  of  their  foes.  Captain  Fuller  had  attended  many  military  executions 
during  the  war,  for  such  things  were  fearfully  frequent  on  the  Confederate 
side,  yet  he  says  that  he  never  saw  men  die  as  bravely  as  these.  With 
uncovered  faces  they  looked  steadily  and  serenely  on  the  surrounding 
foe.  But  they  were  not  to  die  without  a word  of  testimony  that  should  be 
long  remembered,  and  which  to  some  hearts  then  present  seemed  the 
death-knell  of  the  Confederacy. 

Wilson  was  their  spokesman.  He  asked  permission  to  say  a word 
before  death,  and  it  was  freely  accorded.  Possibly  the  surrounding  hun- 
dreds expected  to  hear  some  word  of  pleading  or  confession — some  solu- 
tion of  what  still  seemed  mysterious  in  the  great  raid.  But  if  so  they 
were  mistaken.  I have  received  an  account  of  this  address  from  more 
than  a score  of  persons  who  were  present — soldiers,  citizens,  and 


A Day  of  Blood, 


287 


negroes, — and  it  made  the  same  impression  on  all.  Wilson  was  a born 
orator,  and  he  now  spoke  with  marvelous  skill  and  persuasive  eloquence, 
t He  had  conquered  fear  and  banished  all  resentment;  and  his  calm  and 
dispassionate  earnestness  was  such  as  became  a man  on  the  threshhold  of 


The  Speech  of  Wilson  on  the  Scaffold. 


another  world.  He  began  by  telling  them  that  though  he  was  condemned 
to  death  as  a spy,  he  was  no  spy,  but  simply  a soldier  in  the  performance 
of  duty;  he  said  that  he  did  not  regret  dying  for  his  country,  for  that  was 
» a soldier^s  duty,  but  only  the  manner  of  death,  which  was  unbecoming  to 
a soldier.  Even  those  who  condemned  them  well  knew  that  they  were 
not  spies;  then  leaving  the  personal  question,  he  declared  that  he  had  no 


288 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


hard  feelings  toward  the  south  or  her  people,  with  whom  he  had  long  been 
well  acquainted;  that  they  were  generous  and  brave;  he  knew  they  were 
■fighting  for  what  they  believed  to  be  right,  but  they  were  terribly  de- 
ceived. Their  leaders  had  not  permitted  them  to  know  the  facts  in  the 
case,  and  they  were  bringing  blood  and  destruction  upon  their  section  of 
the  nation  for  a mere  delusion.  He  declared  that  the  people  of  the  North  " 
loved  the  whole  nation  and  the  flag,  and  were  fighting  to  uphold  them, 
nof  to  do  any  injury  to  the  South,  and  that  when  victory  came  the  South 
would  reap  the  benefit  as  well  as  the  North.  The  guilt  of  the  war  would 
rest  upon  those  who  had  misled  the  Southern  people,  and  induced  them  to 
engage  in  a causeless  and  hopeless  rebellion.  He  told  them  that  all 
whose  lives  were  spared  for  but  a short  time  would  regret  the  part  they 
had  taken  in  this  rebellion,  and  that  the  old  Union  would  yet  be  restored, 
and  the  flag  of  our  common  country  wave  over  the  very  ground  occupied 
by  this  scaffold. 

There  were  tears  coursing  rapidly  down  the  cheeks  of  many  Con- 
federate soldiers;  the  emotion  of  a number  of  negroes  who  were  a long 
way  off,  yet  in  easy  hearing  of  the  trumpet-like  voice,  was  almost  uncon- 
trollable. One  of  them  said  to  Captain  Sarratt  two  years  after,  “ Massa,  if 
that  man  had  only  spoke  a few  minutes  longer,  they  could  never  have 
hung  him  in  the  world.’'  A rebel  officer  was  heard  to  mutter,  “Why 
don’t  they  stop  him  ? What  do  they  allow  such  talk  for  ? ” But  it  was 
not  so  easy  to  stop  a dying  man  whose  words  were  so  kind  and  persuasive, 
and  whose  eloquence  was  of  that  highest  type  which  throws  a spell  over 
friend  and  enemy. 

So  the  tide  of  truthful  speech  flowed  on  till  many  of  the  poor  men  in 
the  rebel  ranks  heard  for  the  first  time  the  full  arraignment  of  their  own 
guilty  government  with  a clearness  which  carried  conviction,  and  then 
with  the  bold  prophecy  of  coming  triumph  for  the  glorious  cause — a pros- 
pect which  seemed  to  lift  the  speaker  above  all  fear  of  his  own  death — the 
hero  closed,  giving  the  sign  for  the  deed  of  shame — dying  with  this 
glorious  prediction  on  his  lips  ! 

Five  corpses  only  remained  dangling  in  the  air — a dreadful  spectacle  ! 
But  still  more  terrible  to  witness  was  the  accident  which  added  repulsive 
horror  to  the  scene  of  sublime  martyrdom.  Campbell  and  Slavens  were 
very  heavy,  and  broke  their  ropes,  falling  to  the  ground  insensible.  In  a 
little  time  they  revived,  and  called  for  water.  When  this  was  given  they 
asked  for  an  hour  in  which  to  pray  before  entering  the  future  world  that 
lay  so  near  and  dark  before  them.  But  the  Confederate  authorities  did 
not  wish  to  protract  the  spectacle.  Possibly  from  one  point  of  view  this 
was  humane,  since  there  was  no  prospect  of  pardon;  yet  the  wickedness 
of  denying  all  notice  is  made  more  apparent  by  this  incident.  As  soon 
as  the  ropes  and  the  platform  could  be  adjusted,  they  were  again  led  up 


A Day  of  Blood,  289 

the  steps,  once  more  faced  the  expectant  throng,  and  were  again  hung. 
The  awful  work  was  at  last  complete  ! 

I No  coffins  had  been  provided.  As  soon  as  life  was  pronounced  extinct, 
first  in  the  five  and  afterward  in  the  two,  the  bodies  were  laid  in  the 
shallow  trench  just  wide  enough  for  their  length,  and  long  enough  for  all 
the  seven  to  lie  close  together — a brotherhood  in  death  as  they  had  been 
in  life.  Here  the  earth  was  filled  in,  and  they  remained  till,  at  the  close 
of  the  war,  the  national  government  removed  their  bodies  to  an  honored 
spot  in  the  beautiful  national  cemetery  at  Chattanooga.  A monument 
* should  mark  both  this  spot  and  that  in  Atlanta,  where  heroism  in  death 
shone  so  brightly. 

The  thirteen  who  remained  in  prison — Wollam  had  not  yet  been  re- 
turned to  us — suffered  scarcely  less  than  their  comrades.  The  bitterness 
of  death  was  upon  us  also.  We  did  not  think  that  vengeance  would  stop 
with  those  who  had  fallen.  The  hope  we  had  so  long  cherished  was  over- 
I turned  at  a blow.  In  Knoxville  we  had  urged  that  all  should  be  tried 
together,  or  that  the  sentence  of  one  should  stand  for  all.  There  was  no 
reason  for  giving  any  preference  to  one  over  another,  and  no  indication 
that  such  preference  was  to  be  given.  But  even  if  we  had  not  believed 
that  only  a few  days  or  hours  of  prison  life  lay  between  us  and  the  scaffold, 
the  parting  from  our  loved  friends  whose  voices  were  yet  lingering  in  our 
^ ears  while  they  themselves  had  passed  beyond  the  gates  of  death,  was 
enough  to  break  the  stoutest  heart.  There  were  tears  then  in  eyes  that 
would  not  have  quivered  in  the  presence  of  any  danger 

But  I could  not  shed  a tear.  A cloud  of  burning  heat  rushed  to  my 
head,  and  fever  seemed  to  scorch  through  every  vein.  For  hours  I 
scarcely  could  realize  where  I was,  or  the  loss  that  had  been  suffered. 
Every  glance  around  the  room,  revealing  the  vacant  places  of  friends, 
^ would  bring  our  sorrow  freshly  upon  us  again.  Grief  for  our  comrades 
and  apprehension  for  ourselves  were  inseparably  blended.  The  sudden- 
ness of  the  shock  by  which  we  were  separated  seemed  to  reveal  a spirit 
that  forbade  us  to  hope,  while  it  was  a terrible  aggravation  of  the  pain  of 
parting.  Thus  the  afternoon  hours  slowly  drifted  by  under  a shadow  too 
dark  for  words.  No  one  ventured  as  yet  to  speak  of  hope. 

I The  first  distraction  in  this  terrible  hour  we  owed  to  our  friendly  jailer. 
He  asked  us  if  we  would  like  to  be  all  put  in  one  room. 

We  were  eager  for  this  privilege,  and  he  brought  over  the  eight  who 
were  in  the  front  room  and  placed  them  with  us.  We  were  now  fourteen, 
including  Captain  Fry,  who  still  remained.  There  would  have  been  much  to 
talk  about  in  our  separate  experiences  in  Knoxville  and  Chattanooga  at  any 
other  time,  but  now  the  thought  of  the  lost  swallowed  up  everything  else. 

At  length  some  voice  suggested — rather  faintly  at  first,  for  only  a few 
hours  before  it  would  have  met  keen  ridicule — that  it  would  be  well  for  us 


19 


r 


290 


Daring  arid  Suffering, 


to  pray.  The  thought  was  warmly  welcomed.  Not  the  slightest  objection 
was  offered  by  any  one,  and  we  at  once  all  knelt.  One  member  of  the 
party  has  lately  told  me  that  while  he  knelt  with  the  rest,  and  was  careful  ( 
to  say  nothing  to  discourage  us,  yet  he  never  led  in  prayer,  or  said 
anything  to  indicate  that  he  had  changed  his  life-purpose.  I did  not 
notice  the  exception  at  the  time,  as  every  head  was  bowed  and  every  face 
covered.  Captain  Fry  was  first  requested  to  lead  us,  which  was  peculiarly 
appropriate,  as  he  had  always  maintained  a consistent  religious  life,  and 
now  seemed  to  feel  our  great  sorrow  as  if  it  were  his  own.  He  prayed 
with  deep  earnestness,  strong  sobs  mingling  with  his  fervent  petitions,  ^ 
Then  others  led,  and  we  continued  until  all  but  the  one  already  alluded 
to  had  prayed  in  turn;  then  those  who  had  prayed  before  began  again. 
There  seemed  to  be  some  help  in  simply  telling  our  trouble.  On  my  own 
part,  I do  not  think  that  there  was  a great  deal  of  faith,  at  least  so  far  as 
temporal  deliverance  was  concerned,  but  there  came  a calmness  and  a 
passing  away  of  bitterness  that  was  restful  to  our  tired  hearts.  We  be-  ( 
sought  God  mainly  that  He  would  prepare  us  for  the  fate  that  seemed 
inevitable,  and  that  as  he  had  led  us  into  great  trials,  he  would  in  some 
manner  sustain  us  there.  We  kept  on  praying  with  but  short  intervals  till 
the  sun  went  down.  As  twilight  deepened  into  darkness — the  emblem  of 
our  own  lives — so  our  petitions  grew  more  solemn.  God  seemed  nearer 
than  ever  before.  In  the  darkness  it  appeared  easier  to  behold  the  ^ 
heavenly  light.  We  began  to  ask  for  deliverance  in  this  world  as  well  as 
in  the  hour  of  death,  and  to  have  a hope,  very  faint  and  trembling,  that  it 
might  be  granted.  Then  little  by  little  we  began  to  profess  our  purpose 
to  live  religious  lives  while  we  were  spared,  whether  the  time  was  long  or 
short.  I do  not  know  that  there  was  anything  clear  and  definite  in  the 
way  of  conversion  or  sudden  change  on  the  part  of  any;  but  when  it  is  re- 
membered that  in  the  forenoon  we  had  amused  ourselves  by  all  kind  of  ^ 
games,  that  profane  words  and  jests  were  not  uncommon,  and  that  we 
would  have  been  ashamed  to  speak  of  prayer  or  of  religion  in  any  way 
except  as  a mere  theory,  it  will  be  seen  that  there  was  no  slight  alteration 
in  us  already.  From  that  hour  I date  the  birth  of  an  immortal  hope  and 
a new  purpose  in  life.  And  in  this  experience  I am  not  solitary. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact,  which  the  rationalist  may  explain  as  he  will,  \ 
that  from  the  time  of  that  long  prison  prayer-meeting — from  early  after- 
noon to  midnight — the  fortunes  of  our  party  began  to  improve.  There 
were  fearful  trials  still  before  us,  not  much  inferior  to  any  that  we  had 
passed;  we  long  held  our  lives  by  the  frailest  thread;  yet  till  the  close  of 
the  war,  though  many  perished  around  us,  death  did  not  claim  another 
victim  from  our  midst.  We  committed  ourselves  to  the  Lord,  not  expect- 
ing deliverance  in  this  world;  and  in  His  boundless  mercy  He  bestowed 
upon  us  all  we  asked,  and  far  more  than  we  had  dared  to  hope. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


AFTER  THE  TRAGEDY. 

OUR  arrangements  for  sleeping  in  this  room,  thanks  to  the  humanity 
of  Mr.  Turner,  were  much  better  than  we  had  hitherto  enjoyed 
under  Confederate  rule.  We  had  two  or  three  cotton  mattresses 
and  several  blankets,  having  in  this  respect  little  to  complain  of.  When 
we  lay  down  to  rest  on  the  night  of  the  execution,  our  prayers  and  the 
very  violence  of  our  emotions  caused  us  to  sleep  well.  But  few  things  in 
our  whole  prison  experience  were  more  fearful  than  awakening  the  next 
morning.  The  chill  light  of  a new  day,  the  dispelling  of  dreams  that  may 
have  been  very  pleasant,  and  have  brought  home  vividly  before  us — always 
made  the  morning  hour  the  most  dreary  of  the  day.  But  on  this  occa- 
sion, we  looked  around  and  saw  the  places  of  our  friends  vacant,  and  all 
the  great  sorrow  of  our  bereavement  again  rolled  over  us  like  the- incom- 
ing of  the  sea. 

But  we  wished  to  do  something.  A small  Bible  was  borrowed  from 
Mr.  Turner  when  he  came  to  bring  our  scanty  breakfast — Mr.  Thoer,  who 
was  always  with  him  to  see  that  he  gave  us  no  undue  indulgence,  did  not 
object — and  then  we  had  reading,  singing,  and  prayer — nearly  every  one 
praying,  so  that  it  might  rather  be  called  a morning  prayer-meeting  than 
“family  worship,^’  though  the  latter  was  the  title  used.  We  now  re- 
solved to  continue  this  practice  as  long  as  our  prison  life  lasted.  But  this 
was  not  yet  enough.  What  could  we  do  for  our  own  safety  ? The  vigil- 
ance of  the  guards  was  such  that  any  effort  to  escape  seemed  hopeless. 
Oh  ! how  bitterly  did  we  rue  not  making  the  attempt  on  the  road  from 
Knoxville  ! 

Some  one  suggested  that  we  write  a letter  to  Jefferson  Davis  himself, 
placing  all  the  facts  in  our  case  fairly  before  him  and  asking  his  mercy. 
It  was  urged  that  perhaps  all  this  bloody  persecution  was  the  work  of  sub- 
ordinates, and  that  the  chief  would  disapprove  it  if  brought  directly  to  his 
own  notice.  This  led  to  a hot  discussion.  None  of  us  in  our  deadly  peril 
had  any  pride  as  to  sending  such  a petition  if  there  was  a nrospect  of  doing 
any  good.  But  it  might  call  attention  once  more  to  us,  and  only  lead  to 
a swifter  sentence.  Against  this  it  was  contended  that  our  case  could  not 
possibly  be  made  worse,  as  it  was  now  hopeless;  and  that  such  a petition 


2g2 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


or  letter  in  respectful  terms  might  reach  the  heart  of  the  man  who  had  the 
power,  if  he  would  use  it,  to  disapprove  the  sentence  of  a court-martial 
even  after  it  had  been  rendered. 

I did  not  myself  like  the  idea.  I had  built  such  high  hopes  on  the 
representations  we  had  made  to  the  court,  and  the  assurances  received  in 
return,  that  I thought  it  was  simply  trouble  for  nothing,  that  probably  our 
communication  would  never  reach  him,  and  if  it  did,  I thought  him  no 
better,  indeed  rather  worse,  than  other  Confederates,  and  that  the  chance 
of  any  mercy  was  exceedingly  slight.  But  Mason  spoke  of  his  wife  and 
children,  and  hoped  for  their  sake  that  nothing  possible  would  be  left 
undone.  This  appeal  could  not  be  resisted,  and  I agreed  to  write  if  the 
others  would  furnish  the  substance  of  the  letter.  We  induced  Mr.  Turner 
to  get  us  paper,  pen,  and  ink,  and  I composed  myself  to  write  my  first 
and  last  letter  to  the  President  of  the  Confederacy.  A photograph  of  the 
letter  is  given  herewith,  including  our  autograph  signatures,  and  some  in- 
teresting endorsements.  I now  distinctly  remember  the  circumstances  of 
the  composition,  though  until  its  discovery  in  the  archives  of  the  war 
department,  a few  months  ago,  it  was  completely  forgotten,  or  rather  con- 
founded in  memory  with  another  document  of  similar  character  and  later 
date. 

• Obviously  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to  state  our  case  so  that  the  Presi- 
dent might  know  who  we  were,  and  be  as  favorably  impressed  as  possible. 
I wrote  our  statement  in  the  same  manner  it  had  been  presented  to  the 
court  at  Knoxville,  referring  to  its  records  in  perfect  confidence  that 
nothing  would  be  found  there  to  contradict  us. 

The  first  paragraph  was  read  and  approved  as  far  as  it  went.  But 
Mason  said,  “ It’s  too  cold.  You  only  argue  the  case  as  if  we  had  no 
great  interest  in  it.”  Brown  agreed  with  Mason:  “Yes,  Pittenger,”  he 
said,  “ put  it  on  a good  deal  stronger.  Get  right  down  and  beg  to  him.^’ 
I did  not  like  this  idea  very  well  (probably  as  much  because  I thought 
begging  would  not  be  likely  to  help  us  as  for  any  other  reason):  but 
I added  the  following  sentences,  “ O ! it  is  hard  to  die  a disgraceful  and 
ignominious  death;  to  leave  our  wives,  our  children,  our  brothers,  and 
sisters,  and  parents,  without  any  consolation.  Give  this  matter  your  most 
kind  and  merciful  consideration.  Give  us  the  mercy  you  yourself  hope 
to  receive  from  the  Judge  of  all.^^ 

This  was  pronounced  very  good,  but  some  one  suggested  that  we  ought 
to  make  the  offer  not  to  serve  against  the  Confederacy.  This  was  super- 
fluous, because  we  were  now  in  Confederate  power;  and  they  could  make 
their  own  conditions  before  exchanging  us.  But  I put  it  in  also.  Buffum 
said,  “Tell  him,  Pittenger,  ‘that  all  we  want  is  to  be  let  alone.’  ” This 
was  understood  to  be  a quotation  from  one  of  Davis*  own  speeches,  and 
raised  quite  a laugh;  but  it  did  not  go  into  the  letter.  Brown  again  said. 


294 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


that  I ought  to  tell  him  that  we  wanted  our  lives  spared  until  the  close  of 
the  war,  even  if  we  had  to  stay  in  the  prison  till  that  time.  This  excited 
quite  a discussion,  as  to  whether  that  would  be  really  desirable,  but  Brown  i 
said  that  McClellan  would  take  Richmond  in  a short  time — a week  or 
two — and  then  the  whole  Confederacy  would  vanish  like  smoke,  and  Vv^e 
could  take  back  all  that  we  said.  So  that  petition  also  went  into  the  letter, 
and  it  was  signed  first  by  Brown  and  then  by  all  the  rest.  It  was  handed 
to  the  Provost  Marshal  on  his  visit  to  us  the  same  day,  and  sent  with  his 
endorsement  and  that  of  the  Commander  of  the  Post  to  the  Secretary  of  ^ 
War.  What  its  ultimate  fate  was  we  cannot  tell,  except  that  it  was  cap- 
tured in  the  rebel  archives  at  Richmond.  It  remained  for  a later  letter 
to  another  person  to  show  us  beyond  all  doubt  the  true  disposition  of  the 
rebel  President  toward  us. 

From  this  time  forward  we  had  religious  exercises  morning  and  even- 
ing, and  found  them  a great  consolation  and  support.  They  began  and 
closed  the  day  aright,  and  thus  added  sweetness  to  all  its  hours,  supply-  < 
ing  a subject  of  thought  not  bearing  directly  upon  our  own  gloomy  pros- 
pects, and  thus  enabling  us  to  maintain  better  mental  health.  We  always 
sung  a hymn  or  two  on  these  occasions.  Indeed  there  was  nearly  as  much 
singing  as  at  Chattanooga,  but  of  a far  different  and  more  inspiring  char- 
acter. Instead  of  “Nettie  More,”  ‘^Carrier  Dove,’’  and  such  harmless 
sentimentality,  we  sang  “Rock  of  Ages,^'  “Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul,”  , 
and  others  of  a pronounced  spiritual  cast  This  greatly  astonished  the 
guards.  They  were  given  strict  charge  to  watch  us  closely,  with  the  state- 
ment that  we  were  the  most  desperate  characters  in  the  whole  United 
States;  then  to  hear  us  singing  “ Methodist  Hymns,”  and  to  know  that 
we  had  prayers,  morning  and  evening,  was  a contradiction  they  found  it 
hard  to  reconcile.  Soon  the  story  of  the  heroic  death  of  our  comrades 
and  our  own  religious  bearing  was  noised  about  Atlanta,  and  no  doubt  ^ 
there  were  many  expressions  which  gave  some  ground  for  the  bitter  com- 
plaint of  “sympathy”  made  afterward  by  the  Provost  Marshal  in  his 
report.^  But  we  cared  comparatively  little  for  this,  of  which,  indeed,  we 
then  knew  nothing.  We  had  never  expected  to  receive  much  help  from 
the  people  outside,  and  would  not  have  dared,  for  fear  of  treachery,  to 
accept  it  if  offered.  But  we  wished  to  find  that  peace  in  believing  that  we  * 
had  heard  of  Christians  possessing.  What  would  we  not  now  have  given 
for  the  counsels  and  assistance  of  a minister  we  could  fully  trust ! 

It  is  a delicate  matter  to  speak  of  the  beginning  of  one’s  own  religious 
life — to  say  neither  too  much  nor  too  little;  but  in  the  hope  of  guiding 
some  other  who  is  feeling  after  the  truth,  I will  venture,  using  the  light 
that  twenty^five  years  have  thrown  back  on  those  early  days. 


* War  Records,  Series  I , Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  p.  639. 


After  the  Tragedy, 


295 


After  the  terrible  i8th  of  June  I am  not  conscious  of  any  experience 
of  a religious  character  for  several  days,  except  a profound  and  burning 
^ conviction  that  it  is  folly  to  wait  for  death  before  trying  to  be  right  with 
God.  I might  be  sinful  or  wicked  again,  but  the  idea  that  the  great  busi- 
ness of  life  may  safely  be  left  to  the  last  could  influence  me  no  more  ! 
Just  how  to  be  religious  was  a puzzle.  I knew  if  I had  a command  to 
execute  from  an  army  officer  I would  do  it,  if  in  my  power,  no  matter 
how  difficult  or  dangerous;  and  I wished  intensely  that  it  was  just  as  easy 
to  be  religious  as  to  be  a soldier.  But  there  was  the  question  of  right 
^ feelings  and  right  motives  that  did  not  seem  to  come  into  play  very  much 
in  the  army;  for  if  a soldier  did  his  duty,  he  was  not  apt  to  be  asked  how 
he  felt  about  it;  I had  the  belief  that  I must  have  joy  and  rapture  in 
thinking  of  death,  a readiness  to  shout  God’s  praises,  which  I did  not 
feel;  and  for  a time  it  seemed  as  if  I could  never  reach  a genuine  con- 
version. I diligently  read  the  Bible  which  we  had  borrowed,  but  while  I 
I enjoyed  many  things  in  it,  little  direct  guidance  for  me  was  found. 

I asked  counsel  of  Captain  Fry,  for  whom  I had  the  greatest  esteem 
and  respect.  But  it  was  so  easy  for  him  to  believe,  that  I thought  his 
case  must  be  very  unlike  my  own.  I also  spoke  to  J.  R.  Porter,  the  only 
one  of  our  number  who  had  a clear  religious  faith,  and  seemed  to  be 
happy  in  it.  His  first  answer  was  very  striking.  I asked  how  he  felt 
about  death.  He  thought  that  I referred  to  our  worldly  prospect,  and 
answered  that  probably  we  would  soon  all  be  put  to  death.  “ But  what  is 
your  feeling  about  death  itself?”  I continued.  He  said: 

“ I am  not  afraid  to  die,  if  it  is  God’s  will:  I trust  Him  now,  and  I 
expect  to  trust  Him  to  the  last.”  He  took  my  hand,  and  there  was  a 
steady  light  in  his  eye  that  made  me  believe  every  word  he  said.  But 
when  I asked  him  how  he  got  such  a faith  he  could  only  tell  me  that  he 
» went  to  a Methodist  “ mourners’  bench”  two  years  before  and  sought  till 
he  found  it.  This  did  me  no  good,  for  there  was  no  such  place  accessible 
here. 

In  sore  perplexity  I read  the  Bible  from  day  to  day  and  prayed,  taking 
my  turn  in  praying  aloud  and  reading  with  the  others.  At  length  I 
thought  I began  to  see  that  trusting  Christ  meant  something  like  taking 
I his  words  and  teachings  for  my  guide,  trying  to  do  all  that  he  commands, 
and  leaving  the  result,  while  I did  this,  with  him.  This  was  not  that 
sudden  transformation  that  I had  hoped,  but  I soon  found  that  it  opened 
up  a good  many  things  that  I had  never  dreamed  of.  One  of  these  seemed 
especially  strange  under  the  circumstances.  I had  yet  but  a slender  hope 
of  ever  escaping  from  the  prison  ^except  by  the  way  of  the  scaffold.  But 
in  spite  of  that  dark  prospect  the  question  came  as  an  absolute  test  of  my 
* obedience,  “ Will  you,  if  satisfied  that  it  is  God’s  will,  be  ready  to  give  up 
the  profession  of  law  if  you  ever  get  home,  and  go  into  the  ministry?” 


296 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


The  first  and  spontaneous  reply  was,  “No!”  I had  studied  law  and 
meant  to  practice  it  if  I ever  got  where  law  reigned.  But  at  once  the 
self-response  was  clear,  “ What  kind  of  obedience  is  this  ? “ I saw  that  I 
was  not  sincere  in  proposing  to  enlist  under  Christ  as  my  Captain,  unless 
I would  really  .obey  him.  It  would  be  a poor  allegiance  thaC  stopped  ^ 
short  with  the  things  I wanted  to  do.  For  a long  time  I could  not  pass 
this  point.  The  difficulty  when  communicated  to  my  prison  companions 
seemed  utterly  absurd.  “ Try  to  serve  God  in  the  prison,  where  you  are,” 
they  said  with  a rough  plausibility,  “ and  don’t  bother  about  preaching,  be- 
ing a lawyer,  or  anything  else,  when  you  get  out,  for  you  never  will  get 
out.”  This  seemed  good  advice,  but  it  would  not  bring  a serene  mind 
or  the  victory  over  the  fear  of  death  which  I so  much  desired.  One 
after  another  of  those  in  the  prison  found  the  comfort  I lacked;  and  it  was 
not  till  wearied  and  worn  out  with  the  struggle  that  I vowed  if  God  would 
only  .give  me  His  peace,  I would  serve  Him  as  sincerely  in  the  prison  or 
out  of  it  as  I had  tried  to  serve  m 7 country,  and  in  any  way  that  He  might 
direct.  Oh  ! that  this  vow  had  been  always  more  faithfully  kept  1 

From  this  time  I did  have  a steady  conviction  that  I was  on  the  Lord’s 
side,  and  that  I had  a right  to  commit  myself  and  my  life  to  His  keeping. 
The  prison  did  not  prove  a palace;  its  discomforts  were  still  felt  keenly, 
and  the  prospect  of  death  by  the  gallows  did  not  appear  more  inviting. 

I would  not  have  been  the  less  ready  to  make  any  desperate  venture  for 
escape;  but  I had  a hope  which  went  beyond  the  prison  and  the  scaffold — 
beyond  any  contingency,  of  earthly  fortune,  while  it  did  not  take  away  any 
real  earthly  good. 

It  was  now  July,  and  the  heats  of  midsummer  were  upon  us.  The 
days  were  long  and  weary,  and  the  heat  fearfully  oppressive.  The  nat- 
ural consequence  was  that  a good  many  of  us  suffered  in  health.  The 
Englishman,  -Wood,  was  prostrated  with  fever  for  nearly  a month,  and  at 
this  time  his  life  was  despaired  of.  His  comrades  would  have  greatly 
mourned  his  death,  yet  they  administered  comfort  to  him  in  a style  worthy 
of  the  best  of  Job's  friends.  They  said,  Now,  Wood,  if  you  get  well, 
you  will  only  be  hung;  you  might  as  well  let  yourself  die,  when  you  are 
so  nearly  dead,  and  you  will  thus  outwit  them.”  But  Wood  did  not  relish 
the  counsel,  and  recovered,  “just  for  spite,”  as  he  often  declared  after- 
wards. 

We  soon  had  great  friends  in  the  negro  waiters  of  the  prison.  They 
gave  us  every  help  in  their  power,  and  it  was  much  that  they  could  do. 
Finding  that  newspapers  were  almost  more  than  meat  or  drink  to  us,  they 
taxed  their  ingenuity  to  get  them.  They  could  neither  read,  buy,  nor  bor- 
row papers;  but  would  watch  till  the  jailer  or  some  of  the  guard  finished 
reading  one,  and  slyly  purloin  it.  Then  it  might  pass  through  a dozen  black 
hands,  and  when  meal-time  came  it  would  be  put  in  the  bottom  of  the  pan 


After  the  Tragedy. 


297 


in  which  our  food  was  brought,  and  thus  be  handed  in  to  us.  Usually 
the  paper  was  returned  in  the  same  way  to  avoid  suspicion.  The  guard 
and  officers  would  talk  with  us,  and  finding  us  about  as  well  posted  on  war 
news  as  themselves — though  all  newspapers  were  strictly  forbidden — they 
came  to  think  that  we  had  an  instinct  for  news  such  as  the  bee  has  of  cell- 
forms. 

Having  found  the  negroes  so  intelligent  and  useful,  I questioned  them 
about  other  matters  and  learned  that  they  were  better  informed  than  I had 
imagined.  They  could  not  be  misled  by  their  rebel  masters,  for  they  had 
adopted  the  simple  rule  of  disbelieving  every  thing  told,  even  while  pro- 
fessing unbounded  credulity.  In  some  way  they  got  news  of  their  own 
which  was  often  wildly  erroneous,  but  colored  by  their  preferences.  They 
continued  to  insist  that  McClellan  had  captured  Richmond,  for  months 
after  he  had  been  repulsed  from  the  town. 

They  believed  that  all  northern  soldiers  were  unselfish,  fighting  only 
for  the  rights  of  all  men,  and  considered  it  a privilege  to  help  us  in  any 
possible  way.  Many  of  them  had  heard  that  President  Lincoln  was  a 
negro  or  a mulatto;  and  as  it  had  only  been  talked  about  among  the  poorer 
class  of  whites  without  being  told  directly  to  them,  a few  believed  it;  but 
the  greater  number  had  so  little  faith  in  anything  the  whites  said  that 
• they  disbelieved  this  also.  I never  talked  with  a negro  yet  who  seemed 
to  have  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  victory  of  the  Union  troops,  and  in  their 
own  freedom  as  the  result  of  the  war.  Their  instinct  in  this  direction 
excelled  in  truth  and  penetration  the  reasoning  of  many  able  men.  I had 
extensive  opportunities  of  observing  the  negroes,  as  the  front  room  on  the 
same  side  of  the  entry  as  our  own  was  appropriated  to  them,  and  there 
was  a secret  mode  of  communication.  I never  found  one  without  an  ardent 
longing  for  freedom  and  a belief  that  soon  the  war  would  give  it  to  him. 

One  morning  Turner  came  to  our  room,  and  said,  “ Do  you  know 
John  Wollam?^^  We  hesitated  to  answer  either  way,  being  very  anxious 
for  any  news  of  him,  as  no  one  of  us  had  heard  anything  since  the  day 
he  escaped  from  the  Chattanooga  jail;  but  we  feared  to  compromise  him. 
While  we  were  trying  to  recollect  whether  we  had  ever  heard  of  such  a 
person,  John  put  an  end  to  all  perplexity  by  striding  up  and  saying  with 
a laugh  and  in  his  broad,  hearty  way,  “How  are  you,  boys  ? ” We  were 
glad  and  sorry  in  a breath  to  see  him.  He  joined  in  our  religious  exer- 
cises with  much  good  will.  Now  all  the  survivors  of  our  party  were  to- 
gether again. 

We  all  remember  with  deepest  gratitude  the  Rev.  Geo.  G.  N.  Mac- 
Donell,  one  of  those  who  attended  our  comrades  on  the  day  of  death.  We 
did  not  see  either  of  the  clergymen  then,  or  know  who  they  were,  or  in- 
deed that  there  was  such  attendance  till  long  after.  Whether  Rev.  Mr. 
Scott  did  visit  us  or  not  I am  unable  to  state  with  positiveness.  A mib- 


298 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


ister  came,  and  I was  afterward  told  that  his  name  was  Scott,  but  he  may 
have  been  another  person,  as  I think  this  one  was  not  a resident  of  the 
city.  The  interview  in  this  latter  case  was  unpleasant.  The  preacher  ^ 
had  been  brought  in  by  our  old  jailer  on  the  very  natural  presumption 
that  persons  who  prayed  and  sung  so  much  would  like  to  meet  a clergy- 
man. He  promised  the  officer  of  the  guard  that  he  would  talk  only 
about  religion.  But  his  first  question  built  up  an  impassable  barrier  be- 
tween us.  He  asked  how  we  could  be  so  wicked  as  to  come  down  there, 
and  fight  against  the  South,  and  try  to  overturn  their  government?  We 
had  been  trying  to  repent  of  our  sins,  but  had  not  got  so  far  as  that  par-  ^ 
ticular  one  yet,  and  answered  a little  tartly  by  asking  how  he  and  his 
friends  could  be  so  wicked  as  to  rebel  against  a good  government.  He 
answered  by  a reference  to  the  North  trying  to  overthrow  slavery,  and  I 
asked  him,  if  it  was  possible  that  he,  a minister,  was  an  apologist  for 
slavery  ! It  happened  that  he  was  a zealous  defender  of  the  institution 
and  very  sensitive  on  this  point;  and  so  much  noise  was  soon  made  in  the  < 
discussion  that  the  guard  removed  him.  He  did  not  come  again. 

But  our  mterview  and  subsequent  acquaintance  with  Rev.  Mr.  Mac- 
Donell  was  of  a very  different  character,  though  it  also  opened  unpromis- 
ingly. In  his  first  prayer  he  petitioned  very  earnestly  that  our  lives 
might  be  spared  if  consistent  with  the  good  of  the  Confederacy  ! This  of- 
fended some  of  us,  but  the  better  opinion  was  that  if  sincere  in  his  loyalty 
to  the  rebel  authority,  he  could  hardly  have  prayed  differently.  So  kind 
was  he  to  us  afterward  that  some  thought  he  might  possibly  be  a Union 
man  in  his  real  sentiments;  but  he  has  since  assured  me  that  he  was  not 
in  the  slightest  degree,  and  that  all  he  did  for  us  was  at  the  dictates  of 
humanity  and  religion.  We  had  a very  pleasant  interview.  He  gave  us 
valuable  counsel,  and  I felt  it  a great  privilege  to  talk  over  religious  ques- 
tions with  one  so  intelligent  and  sympathetic.  When  he  left,  he  promised  < 
to  send  us  some  books,  and  did  not  forget  to  promptly  forward  them. 
These  we  took  good  care  of,  read  thoroughly  to  all  in  the  room,  and  then 
returned,  asking  for  more.  These  he  generously  gave,  and  we  thus  con- 
tinued till  we  had  read  nearly  his  whole  library.  Those  only  who  know 
what  a dreadful  weariness  it  is  to  pass  days  without  any  definite  employ- 
ment can  realize- the  great  boon  these  good  books  bestowed  on  us.  It  ^ 
made  the  prison  room  a veritable  school;  and  in  view  of  our  religious 
efforts  the  character  of  the  books  was  just  what  we  would  most  have  de- 
sired. I did  not  care,  as  in  Knoxville,  for  law-books;  but  the  fact  that 
many,  though  not  all,  of  the  minister’s  books  were  of  a theological  and  re- 
ligious cast  only  made  them  the  more  welcome.  This  Atlanta  jail  was  my 
Theological  Seminary! 

Our  food  here  grew  less  in  quantity  till  we  ^reached  the  verge  of 
starvation.  For  weeks  together  all  we  received  was  a little  corn  bread. 


After  the  Tragedy, 


299 


the  meal  ground  with  all  the  bran  in  it,  and  half  baked  without  any  salt, 
and  a little  pork  that  was  mostly  spoiled.  Even  this  disgusting  food 
f could  not  overcome  the  inexhaustible  good  humor  of  some  members  of 
the  party.  Knight  would  arrange  the  small  particles  of  fresh  meat  in  rows 
or  circles  on  the  old  spoiled  piece,  and  say,  holding  it  up  to  view,  “Now 
you  see  it; — now  you  don’t,”  as  it  disappeared  down  his  throat!  But 
there  was  not  enough  even  of  this  miserable  fare  to  satisfy  the  slenderest 
appetite  ! Neither  was  such  starvation  unavoidable  on  the  part  of  our 
enemies  at  this  stage  of  the  contest,  whatever  it  may  have  become  later; 
^ for  Atlanta  was  the  store-house  of  the  South,  where  had  been  accumulated 
the  spoil  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  in  immense  quantities.  But  this 
was  to  be  reserved  for  future  emergencies,  and  not  wasted  on  prisoners  ! 
We  believed  that  Turner  would  have  fed  us  better  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility if  it  had  not  been  for  the  odious  Thoer. 

To  fight  against  despondency,  and  to  provide  such  employments  as 
• would  prevent  the  awful  dreariness  of  prison  days  from  eating  away  heart 
and  soul,  taxed  our  energies  to  the  utmost.  The  fate  of  our  companions 
hung  over  our  heads  continually,  and  their  memory  was  never  long  absent 
from  our  minds,  but  we  strove  to  provide  that  regular  occupation  for  mind 
and  body  which  is  the  necessary  condition  of  health  and  sanity. 

On  the  terrible  i8th  of  June  we  threw  our  cards  out  of  the  window, 
^ and  resolved  to  engage  no  more  in  that  game.  Aside  from  its  gambling 
associations,  it  was  inseparably  connected  for  us  with  the  terrible  shock 
we  then  received,  for  we  were  at  cards  when  we  discovered  the  guard  ap- 
proaching. But  we  carved  a checker  board  on  the  floor  with  a nail,  and 
it  was  occupied  at  all  leisure  times  by  eager  players.  We  also  formed  our- 
selves into  a debating  society,  and  spent  a specified  number  of  hours  each 
day  in  discussing  questions  of  all  kinds.  No  one  was  excused,  and  some 
•became  quite  expert  speakers,  and  frequently  the  interest  would  be  in- 
tense. Yet  at  the  close  of  the  fixed  time,  which  was  determined  by  the 
relief  of  the  guard  outside,  or  guessed  at  from  the  lengthening  shadows  of 
the  jail  by  the  person  appointed  for  that  purpose,  we  would  change  the 
order  of  exercises,  suspending  the  question  till  the  next  day.  The  ad- 
vantage gained  and  the  actual  information  imparted  in  this  way  were  not 
» small.  What  one  knew  became  the  property  of  all.  The  time  and  labor 
expended  were  no  loss,  for  time  was  abundant,  and  the  hardest  of  all 
labor  is  to  do  nothing. 

But  there  is  no  employment  upon  which  I look  back  with  more  pleas- 
ure than  that  for  which  the  Minister’s  books  furnished  us  the  material. 
With  fifteen  persons  in  a room  not  more  than  eighteen  feet  square  it  was 
^ needful  to  preserve  quiet  if  any  reading  was  to  be  done.  We  therefore 
appointed  regular  reading  hours — two  in  the  forenoon  and  the  same  in 
the  afternoon.  During  this  time  no  one  was  permitted  to  speak  above  a 


300 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


low  whisper^  and  all  noise  and  running  about  were  also  forbidden.  The 
rules  were  sometimes  broken,  and  penalties  had  to  be  applied,  but  usually 
the  order  was  excellent.  Those  who  did  not  wish  to  read  might  sleep. 
Sometimes  the  books  were  read  silently,  but  for  a part  of  the  time  in 
nearly  every  period  a volume  of  general  interest  would  be  selected  and 
read  aloud.  These  books  would  often  furnish  subjects  and  arguments  for 
discussion  in  the  debating  periods  that  followed.  We  gained  a great  deal 
of  knowledge  in  our  novel  school  which  has  been  of  life-long  value. 
Books  of  travel,  adventures,  history,  biography,  and  theology — no  fiction 
• — -were  freely  read,  and  brought  the  freshness  of  the  outside  world  into 
our  dreary  captivity.  MacDonell,  who  was  greatly  interested  in  the  use 
we  were  making  of  our  time  and  his  books,  asked  if  he  could  also  send 
us  some  papers.  The  Commander  said  that  he  might  if  they  were  old 
and  religious.  He  accordingly  sent  us  a number  of  journals  of  that  char- 
acter which  we  greatly  enjoyed;  but  we  examined  them  with  even  more 
interest  when  we  found  by  experience  that  a late  number  of  the  Atlanta 
dailies  was  not  unlikely  to  be  found  in  nearly  every  bundle.  Mr.  Mac- 
Donell had  no  sympathy  with  the  idea  of  trying  to  punish  men  by  cutting 
them  off  from  all  knowledge  of  the  living  world. 

We  had  also  our  times,  less  firmly  fixed  but  still  coming  in  each  day, 
for  physical  exercise.  Those  who  had  least  interest  in  the  reading  and 
debating  were  foremost  here.  It  may  be  thought  that  our  little  room 
would  allow  of  no  great  use  of  the  muscles.  But  this  is  a mistake.  We 
were  especially  anxious  to  keep  our  strength  up  to  the  maximum,  not  only 
for  health  but  for  the  critical  use  which  we  might — and  did — find  for  it  be- 
fore long.  The  two  large  windows  of  the  jail,  although  there  were  bars 
across  them,  afforded  us  light  and  air;  and  if  our  food  had  been  abundant 
and  nourishing,  we  might  have  remained  nearly  as  strong  as  when  we  left 
our  own  camps.  Marks  were  made  on  the  floor  for  jumping,  and  we 
could  tell  from  to-day  what  progress  we  were  making  in  this  art.  One 
of  the  mattrasses  was  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  room  for  handsprings; 
and  as  three  of  the  number  were  very  expert  to  begin  with — Brown, 
Knight,  and  Hawkins — the  latter  having  been  for  a time  in  a circus — we 
were  soon  all  taught  a great  variety  of  feats.  Wrestling  and  boxing  ex- 
cited even  more  lively  interest,  and  we  were  scientifically  trained  in  both. 
In  fact,  whatever  one  knew  in  any  one  department,  he  felt  it  a duty  and 
pleasure  to  communicate  as  far  as  possible  to  all  the  others.  The  result 
was  a feeling  of  comradeship  and  of  brotherhood  that  was  of  the  greatest 
value.  I doubt  whether — notwithstanding  the  great  sorrow  behind  us  for 
our  leader  and  companions,  and  with  our  own  future  most  lowering,  half 
starved,  with  only  the  remnant  of  clothing  we  had  brought  from  camp, 
and  in  a prison  swarming  with  vermin — we  were  not  after  all  happier  than 
any  equal  number  of  Union  prisoners  then  in  Confederate  hands! 


After  the  Tragedy, 


301 


In  the  morning  when  it  was  light  enough  to  see  well  and  all  had 
fully  aroused  themselves,  the  signal  was  given  for  prayers.  At  first  this 
g was  before  breakfast,  but  we  changed  afterward,  for  the  reason  that  after 
our  breakfast,  little  as  it  was,  we  could  be  in  a more  thankful  spirit  than 
when  the  fierce  morning  hunger  was  entirely  unsatisfied.  After  this 
change  had  been  made  we  simply  talked  and  yawned  and  grumbled  around 
till  the  jailer  came  with  the  anxiously  expected  food.  The  doors  were 
then  opened  and  the  negro  waiters  would  hand  in  a pan  with  our  allow- 
ance. This  was  shared  out  carefully,  and  soon  eaten.  Then  the  pans 
^ were  taken  by  the  jailer,  and  when  alone,  the  one  appointed  for  that  pur- 
pose would  read  a chapter  in  the  Bible,  sometimes  more,  and  we  would  sing, 
and  then  in  due  turn,  one  or  more  would  lead  in  prayer.  After  a short 
interval  we  would  have  our  two  hours  for  reading.  Often  this  was  a pe- 
riod of  great  interest.  Those  who  had  read  most  in  former  days  were 
often  called  upon  to  explain  what  was  read  to  the  others,  and  our  rules 

# would  be  relaxed  by  vote  far  enough  to  permit  this.  Next  came  debate. 
Sometimes  this  was  dull,  at  other  times  full  of  fire;  then  the  muscular  ex- 
ercises would  follow,  after  which  every  one  did  what  he  pleased  till  Turner 
again  opened  the  iron  doors — there  were  two,  one  of  iron  slats,  and  the 
other  of  solid  iron — and  handed  in  our  dinner,  the  only  other  meal  we 
received,  which  usually  came  between  three  and  four  o’clock.  When  this 

^ was  eaten,  we  again  had  a reading  period,  after  which  was  no  more  pre- 
scribed employment,  until  in  the  twilight  we  had  worship  once  more,  and 
a period  of  singing.  We  did  not  sing  nearly  so  well  as  in  Chattanooga, 
for  Andrews  and  Ross  were  not  with  us,  but  we  improved  through  prac- 
tice. Then  followed  what  often  seemed  the  sweetest  part  of  the  day. 
We  talked  as  we  pleased.  Ail  our  past  lives  were  brought  into  review; 
the  books  we  had  read  were  recalled,  and  the  conversation  went  on  some- 

* times  in  little  groups,  sometimes  with  the  whole  room  listening  to  a single 
speaker.  We  never  had  any  light,  and  could  do  nothing  but  talk.  The 
darkness  seem.ed  to  make  us  converse  more  freely;  and  often  it  could  not 
have  been  far  from  the  middle  of  the  night  when  we  ceased. 

Buffum  was  very  fond  of  stories  and  I had  read  a good  many,  which 
he  would  induce  me  to  tell.  Once  he  got  me  started  on  Bulwer’s  Strange 
I Story,”  which  I had  read  before  leaving  camp,  and  he  was  so  much  in- 
terested in  the  beginning,  that  he  persuaded  others  to  listen.  I had  to 
begin  again,  and  the  whole  company  were  attentive.  Where  memory 
failed,  it  was  easy  to  bridge  the  chasm  with  a little  invention,  and  in  the 
darkness  the  weird  story  was  very  fascinating  to  one  hearer  at  least. 
Soon  after  Buffum’s  liberation  he  hastened  to  buy  the  story  that  had 
thrilled  him  so  much,  but  declared  himself  greatly  disappointed  in  it  ! 
No  doubt  the  difference  in  surroundings  was  mainly  responsible  for  the 
result. 


302 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


But  there  were  times  when  all  our  resources  would  fail,  and  the  awful 
tediousness  of  those  teWbly  long  summer  days  be  fully  felt.  Brown, 
who  was  one  of  the  most  restless  of  mortals,  would  amuse  himself  as  ^ 
long  as  he  could  endure  it,  and  then  suddenly  break  off  from  whatever 
we  were  engaged  in,  and  commence  pacing  the  floor  like  a caged  bear;^ 
when  he  could  stand  this  no  longer  he  would  catch  hold  of  the  latticed 
door,  and  shake  it  with  all  his  immense  strength  till  it  rattled,  and  then 
say  in  the  most  piteous  tones,  which  we  only  could  hear,  “Please,  kind 
sir,  let  me  out.  I want  to  go  home  ! A good  many  of  us  felt  the  same 
way,  though  we  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  say  so  ! Mason  was  the  ^ 
most  despondent  member  of  the  party.  The  thought  cf  his  wife  and  children 
sometimes  overwhelmed  him,  and  he  utterly  despaired.  He  would  sit, 
as  long  as  we  would  allow,  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  and  his  knees 
drawn  up  to  a level  with  his  face,  while  he  would  say,  “ Darker  and 
darker,  boys;  saltpetre  won’t  save  us  !”  then  Buffum  and  Brown,  forget- 
ting their  own  burdens,  would  turn  in  and  tease  him  until  by  making  him  4 
half  angry  or  diverting  his  attention,  they  would  rouse  him  out  of  his  des- 
pondent mood. 

There  have  been  many  battles  fought  and  fierce  controversies  waged 
over  the  Scriptures.  The  most  serious  strife  that  I remember  to  have  seen  in 
our  prison  had  the  same  origin.  Porter  was  reading  the  jailer’s  Bible  one 
morning,  and  Alf.  Wilson  wished  to  refer  to  the  book  to  settle  some  point 
raised  in  controversy.  Porter  did  not  heed  the  request  for  it,  either  be- 
cause he  did  not  hear  it  or  was  too  busy  himself  to  be  disturbed  at  that 
moment.  Wilson  asked  again  a little  more  peremptorily,  and  the  book 
was  not  yet  forthcoming.  Then  Wilson  who  was  standing  up,  while  Porter 
was  sitting,  gave  him  a kick,  not  very  hard,  but  sufficient  to  show  a little 
temper.  Porter  did  not  resent  this,  only  closing  the  Bible  and  handing  it 
up,  saying,  “ Take  it,  if  you  want  it.^’  At  once  Knight  took  up  the  « 
quarrel  for  his  friend,  and  words  flew  fast  and  furious.  A fight  was  out 
of  the  question,  for  we  would  not  permit  anything  of  that  kind,  but  the 
wordy  war  could  not  be  quelled  so  easily,  and  at  intervals  during  the 
whole  day  it  would  break  out  afresh.  But  like  all  our  prison  quarrels,  it 
soon  passed  away. 

Never  before  did  we  realize  the  full  meaning  of  confinement  as  we  did  ^ 
here,  in  the  great  length  of  time,  and  the  heat  and  languor  of  the  long 
summer  days.  The  changes  and  even  the  horrors  of  former  experience, 
and  the  frequency  of  our  removals,  prevented  the  blank  monotony  from 
settling  down  on  us  then  as  it  now  did,  after  the  first  few  weeks  had  rolled 
by  and  no  intimation  of  our  fate  been  given.  It  was  like  the  stillness  and 
death  that  brood  over  the  Dead  Sea. 

We  would  sit  by  the  windows  in  the  sultry  heat  and  watch  the  free  ^ 


After  the  Tragedy, 


303 


birds  as  they  flew  past,  so  merry  and  full  of  joyous  life,  and  foolishly  wish 
that  we  were  birds,  that  we  might  also  fly  away  and  be  free  ! 

g Turner  here  gained  for  us  a great  indulgence.  Two  of  us  were  per- 
mitted to  go  down  in  the  yard^  at  long  intervals,  to  do  a little  washing. 
None  of  the  clothes  with  which  we  left  camp  had  been  washed  or  replaced, 
neither  had  we  been  permitted  the  slightest  opportunity  of  washing.  To 
say  that  our  shirts  and  ourselves  were  dirty  would  be  a mild  statement! 
but  this  was  the  first  opportunity  to  remedy  the  matter,  and  it  was  eagerly 
accepted.  The  two  who  v/ent  clown  could  take  the  shirts  of  the  remainder 

^ — it  was  no  great  hardship  to  do  without  them  in  a July  or  August  noon  in 
Atlanta  ! — and  give  them  a very  slight  cleansing.  It  would  not  do  to  be 
at  all  rough  in  the  washing,  for  they  were  very  frail,  and  we  did  not  flatter 
ourselves  with  the  prospect  of  obtaining  any  more. 

One  day  it  came  my  turn;  it  was  then  three  months  since  I had 
stepped  out  of  the  room,  and  the  unobscured  vision  of  the  blue  vault  above 

• made  it  seem  like  a new  world.  I looked  up  at  the  beautiful  snowy  clouds, 
my  eyes  dazzled  by  the  unusual  light,  and  thinking  of  the  yet  brighter 
world  beyond,  where  were  neither  wars  nor  prisons.  With  the  thought 
came  also  the  fear  that,  once  out  of  danger  and  prison,  I might  forget  my 
prison-made  vows  and  thus  lose  my  claim  to  the  world  of  light.  Such  a 
sense  of  weakness  and  helplessness  came  over  me,  that  it  was  almost  a 

^ relief  when  called  back  to  the  room  behind  the  bars  and  the  iron  doors  ! 

Our  dreams  were  at  once  a sweetness  and  an  aggravation  of  our  suf- 
fering. Perhaps  they  made,  in  part,  the  difference  between  the  cheerful- 
ness of  the  evenings  and  the  gloom  of  the  mornings.  In  day-time,  friends 
and  happier  days  seemed  separated  from  us  by  an  impassible  gulf,  but  at 
night  and  in  sleep  tnere  were  no  barriers;  then  we  were  at  home  enjoying 
love  and  freedom. 

• Often  have  I seen  in  dreams  the  narrow  street  and  the  familiar  build- 
ings of  my  childhood  town  rise  before  me,  and  have  felt  a thrilling  pleas- 
ure as  I wended  my  way  toward  the  old  home.  But  waking  from  these 
incursions  into  a forbidden  paradise  was  sad  beyond  measure,  and  the 
cold  bare  walls  of  the  prison  never  looked  half  so  dreary  as  when  seen  in 
contrast  with  such  visions  of  delight. 

h An  anecdote  here  may  fitly  illustrate  the  affection  for  what  we  called, 
to  the  provocation  of  guards  and  citizens,  “ God's  country.’^  During  the 
study  period,  I had  read  aloud  Bishop  Bascom's  sermon,  contained  in 
one  of  MacDonelTs  books,  on  “ The  Joys  of  Heaven."  All  listened  with 
profound  attention  to  the  magnificent  description,  and  when  it  was  fin- 
ished, Brown  rather  startled  us,  by  saying  in  his  most  matter-of-fact  way, 
“Well,  boys,  that  is  very  good;  but  I would  like  to  know  how  many  of 
this  party,  would  rather  be  there  now,  safe  from  all  harm,  or  back  in  Cin- 
cinnati ? The  question  was  a good  one  for  discussion,  and  it  was  de- 


304 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


bated  with  great  animation;  but  the  majority  maintained,  no  doubt  sin- 
cerely,  that  they  would  rather  be  in  Cincinnati— for  a while  at  least! 

We  found  amusement  and  ultimate  profit  in  opening  secret  communi-  ^ 
cation  with  every  room  in  the  prison.  These  are  trivial  details,  but  there 
is  an  interest  in  seeing  how  with  the  slenderest  resources  things  almost 
impossible  are  accomplished.  We  could  shoot  a stick  with  a string  at- 
tached to  it  under  the  door  to  those  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  entry, 
and  written  messages  could  thus  be  sent.  If  the  stick  did  not  reach  its 
destination,  it  was  pulled  back  for  another  effort.  There  was  a chimney 
between  our  room  and  the  one  on  the  same  side  of  the  house,  and  by  ^ 
pulling  out  the  pipes  which  led  into  this  chimney,  messages  could  be 
passed  from  one  hole  to  another.  In  preparing  for  our  final  effort  to  es- 
cape, these  communications  were  almost  indispensable. 

One  morning  a number  of  prisoners  were  put  in  this  room,  and  as  soon 
as  the  guard  were  out  of  the  way,  we  resorted  to  our  usual  mode  of  “ tel- 
egraphing,’' and  found  to  our  surprise  and  pleasure  that  two  of  them  werei 
from  the  loth  Wisconsin  regiment,  in  our  own  brigade.  They  told  us 
that  we  had  long  since  been  given  up  for  dead,  and  that  our  comrades 
were  vowing  vengeance  for  our  murder.  They  were  greatly  surprised  to 
find  so  many  of  us  alive.  I have  little  doubt  that  the  Confederates 
wished  the  impression  to  prevail  that  we  had  all  perished,  and  therefore 
kept  us  so  close,  and  would  not  let  even  the  dying  messages  of  the  seven 
pass  the  lines.  The  other  two  were  soldiers  of  the  regular  army  who  had 
been  captured  on  the  coast  of  Florida.  The  four  remained  with  us  until 
we  were  taken  to  Richmond.  From  them  we  learned  much  as  to  the  po- 
sition of  affairs  outside,  which  the  rebel  papers  had  not  given.  The  dis- 
appointment we  felt  in  learning  that  McClellan’s  repulse  from  Richmond 
was  really  as  bad  as  we  had  heard  was  indescribable.  We  had  hoped  that 
the  war  was  near  its  end,  but  now  hope  seemed  extinct.  • 

As  each  month  dragged  its  slow  length  along,  we  were  startled  by  the 
thought  that  we  were  still  alive — that  the  bolt  had  not  yet  descended  — 
and  we  wondered  how  much  longer  it  could  be  delayed.  Could  it  be  that 
even  the  years  would  pass  and  find  us  still  enduring  the  dreadful  mono- 
tony of  the  Atlanta  jail  ? The  long  reprieve  we  were  enjoying  seemed 
incomprehensible.  Why  did  they  not  put  us  to  death  if  they  meant  to  do  % 
it;  if  not,  why  were  we  not  placed  on  the  footing  of  other  prisoners  of  war  ? 
There  seemed  no  reason  for  any  middle  course.  I have  no  doubt  now 
that  we  were  forgotten  in  the  rush  and  hurry  of  great  events,  but  we  did 
not  dream  of  that,  then. 

Most  of  our  number  were  tobacco-chewers  and  were  driven  to  number- 
less expedients  to  obtain  what  many  of  them  declared  they  valued  more 
than  their  daily  bread.  They  begged  of  the  guards,  of  the  jailer,  and  of 
the  negroes;  and  as  one  tobacco-chewer  sympathizes  with  another,  they 


After  the  Tragedy, 


305 


did  not  always  beg  in  vain.  The  supplies  thus  obtained  were  economized 
to  the  utmost.  Not  only  was  the  chewing  continued  till  the  last  particle 

^ of  taste  was  extracted,  but  “ the  remains’*  were  then  carefully  dried,  and 
smoked  in  cob  pipes  ! 

A few  articles  that  could  be  spared,  such  as  handkerchiefs  and  vests, 
were  sold  to  the  guards,  as  also  a coat  which  Andrews  had  left  with  Haw- 
kins at  his  death,  and  the  proceeds  invested  in  tobacco,  apples,  and 
onions.  As  I did  not  use  the  first  or  last  I was  generously  accorded  a 
double  portion  of  the  second  ! 

♦ But  I wanted  books  more  than  all  else,  for  the  generosity  of  the  min- 
ister did  not  supply  all  wants  in  that  direction.  Accordingly  I sold  my 
vest,  the  only  article  of  clothing  I could  spare  (and  that  I needed  bitterly 
afterward),  and  a pocket-book,  which  was  left  when  its  contents  were  rifled; 
and  with  the  price  Turner  bought  for  me  three  books — all  gems — “ Paradise 
Lost,”  Pilgrim’s  Progress,^’  and  “ Pollok’s  Course  of  Time.”  The  first  of 

^ these  I began  to  commit  to  memory,  and  made  considerable  progress  in 
that  direction.  I also  used  it  for  noting  on  the  margin  important  dates  in 
this  history.  I brought  it,  with  the  “Course  of  Time,’^  through  all  my 
wanderings  and  have  them  yet.  The  second,  after  reading  thoroughly, 
I presented  with  an  appropriate  inscription  to  Rev.  Mr.  Mac  Donell,  as 
the  only  testimonial  in  my  power  of  gratitude  for  the  great  service  he 
had  rendered  us.  These  books,  with  the  use  of  MacDonell’s  library, 

• very  much  lightened  and  shortened  those  almost  interminable  four 
months. 


20 


% 


i 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

i 

A DARING  ESCAPE. 

For  a long  time  there  was  little  to  interfere  with  the  routine  of  our 
prison  life.  We  appeared  to  be  completely  separated  from  the 
great  outward  world  as  well  as  from  the  terrible  struggle  that  was 
convulsing  the  nation.  In  regard  to  attempting  an  escape,  Andrews  and  ^ 

G.  D.  Wilson  were  no  longer  with  us  to  preach  caution;  but  I had  now 
changed  sides,  feeling  that  circumstances  were  so  different  as  to  make  the 
effort  very  nearly  hopeless,  while  failure  would  not  only  lead  to  more  rigor- 
ous confinement,  but  awaken  attention  and  cause  a new  trial.  Our 
strongest  men  were  dead;  two  or  three  others  were  sick;  and  I did  not 
think  we  had  the  chance  of  success  that  had  inspired  us  earlier.  These 
views  prevailed  for  the  time;  but  we  all  agreed  that  if  there  should  be  * 
any  prospect  of  another  court-martial,  we  would  strike  at  once,  even 
if  death  was  sure;  for  if  we  were  again  summoned  it  could  only  mean 
death. 

Besides  the  reduction  of  our  force  there  were  many  other  unfavor- 
able elements  in  our  situation.  Atlanta  was  virtually  the  centre  of  the 
Confederacy.  Our  forces,  under  the  command  of  Gen.  Buell,  had  been  i 
driven  back  across  Tennessee,  and  a journey  of  three  hundred  miles 
would  be  necessary  before  we  could  reach-  the  shelter  of  the  old  flag. 

We  were  in  the  edge  of  the  city,  and  would  be  obliged  to  run  at  least  a 
mile — probably  more — before  gaining  the  nearest  wood.  There  was  a 
heavy  guard  constantly  on  duty,  and  such  vigilance  was  used  that  the  first 
start  would  be  difficult  if  not  impossible.  ^ 

But  none  of  us  had  any  objection  to  talking  about  escape,  as  it  gave 
variety  to  conversation  and  imparted  the  knowledge  of  each  to  all.  The 
final  result  of  this  was  a most  extraordinary  improvement  in  travelling 
power.  All  our  former  attempts  were  discussed  and  the  particular 
causes  that  led  to  the  capture  of  each  person  were  carefully  gone  over, 
and  vows  made  not  to  fall  into  the  same  mistakes  the  second  time  if 
we  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  get  in  the  woods  at  night  again.  These  • 

discussions  awakened  confidence,  and  were  in  some  measure  a substitute 

t 


A Daring  Escape. 


307 


for  experience.  How  to  approach  a house  in  search  of  food  or  informa- 
tion, how  to  travel  by  the  stars  at  night,  for  in  the  fall  months  there  was 
^ but  little  fear  of  the  persistent  clouds  which  had  been  so  serious  a hindrance 
before;  how  to  throw  dogs  off  the  trail,  which  was  more  necessary  than  for- 
merly, for  we  would  probably  not  be  armed;  the  divergent  courses  which 
would  most  likely  divide  pursuit,  and  bring  us  to  the  Union  border  at 
different  points; — all  these  things  were  fully  considered,  and  in  due  time 
the  fruit  was  seen. 

But  if  these  topics  were  of  absorbing  interest  when  we  had  resolved 
• not  to  attempt  to  escape  except  in  certain  contingencies,  they  were  won- 
derfully freshened  when  those  contingencies,  in  worse  form  than  we  had 
dreamed  of,  were  actually  upon  us.  A series  of  events  now  began  which 
was  to  convince  us  all  that  we  had  no  hope  save  such  as  we  could  wrest 
from  our  enemies  by  our  own  hands.  The  same  events  also  secured  the 
official  preservation  of  most  interesting  rebel  documents  regarding  us, 
j In  the  first  agony  of  that  day  of  death  at  Atlanta  we  had  written  a let- 
ter to  Davis,  the  Autocrat  of  the  South.  We  did  not  expect  a direct 
answer;  but  so  far  as  we  ever  knew,  it  produced  no  result  at  all.  It  is  of 
course  possible  that  this  paper,  which  put  our  position  in  a strong  and 
favorable  light,  procured  our  long  respite,  so  unlooked  for;  but  probably  we 
were  simply  forgotten  in  the  confusion  of  Confederate  affairs.  Now  it  was 
proposed  to  write  again,  but  to  address  a humbler  person,  who  might  be 
^ readier  to  respond.  Gen.  Bragg  at  this  time  commanded  the  department 
— it  probably  was  fortunate  for  us  that  Kirby  Smith  was  otherwise  en- 
gaged,— and  we  naturally  wrote  to  the  former.  There  were  strong  ob- 
jections to  writing  at  all,  which  suspended  the  proceeding  for  several  days. 
It  was  urged  that  if  we  were  forgotten,  such  a letter  might  bring  the  un- 
welcome fact  of  our  existence  to  mind  and  lead  to  our  death.  But  the 
> great  majority  did  not  believe  that  we  could  be  forgotten  so  soon,  and 
some  argued  that  it  was  better  to  find  out  our  enemy’s  designs  even  if  it 
did  incite  them  to  renewed  acts  of  hostility,  for  at  the  worst  death  was 
better  than  such  imprisonment  continued  indefinitely.  It  was  August 
now,  and  the  prospect  of  a speedy  ending  of  the  war,  which  had  seemed 
so  bright  in  June,  was  greatly  darkened.  If  we  were  kept  much  longer  it 
I meant  a slow  and  lingering  death;  while  if  they  attempted  to  try  us,  we 
had  all  agreed  to  make  the  utmost  possible  efforts  for  escape.  Such  rea- 
soning prevailed,  and  we  secured  a narrow  slip  of  paper  and  wrote  the 
following  letter.  The  substance  was  the  contribution  of  the  whole  party, 
while  as  usual  I furnished  the  words.  The  document  with  all  its  endorse- 
ments is  printed  in  the  War  Records,"  and  the  original  carefully  preserved 
at  the  W'ir  Department. 


^ Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  p.  635, 


3o8 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


LETTER  TO  GEN.  BRAGG. 


“ Petition  from  the  survivors  of  Andrews’s  party,  who  took  the  engine  on  the  Georgia 
State  Railroad  in  April  last,  to  Major-General  Bragg,  commanding  Department  No.  2.’* 

“ Atlanta  Jail,  August  17,  1862. 

Respected  Sir  : — We  are  United  States  soldiers  regularly  detailed  from  our  com- 
mand to  obey  the  orders  of  Andrews.  He  was  a stranger  to  us,  and  we  ignorant  of  his 
design,  but,  of  course,  we  obeyed  our  officers.  You  arc  no  doubt  familiar  with  all  we  did, 
or  can  find  it  recorded  in  the  trials  of  our  comrades.  Since  then,  Andrews  himself  and 
seven  of  us  have  been  executed,  and  fourteen  survive.  Is  this  not  enough  for  vengeance 
and  for  a warning  to  others  ? Would  mercy  in  our  case  be  misplaced  ? We  have  already 
been  closely  confined  for  more  than  four  months.  Will  you  not,  sir,  display  a noble  gen- 
erosity by  putting  us  on  the  same  footing  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  permitting  us  to  be 
exchanged,  and  thus  show  that  in  this  terrible  war  the  South  still  feels  the  claim  of  mercy 
and  humanity? 

“ If  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  grant  this  request,  we  will  ever  be  grateful  to  you. 

“ Please  inform  us  of  your  decision  as  soon  as  convenient.” 


‘‘  W.  W.  Brown, 

Wm.  Knight, 

Elihu  Mason, 

Jno.  R.  Porter, 

Wm.  Bensinger, 

Robt.  Buffum, 

Mark  Wood, 

Alfred  Wilson, 

'list  Ohio  Regt^ 


Wm.  Pittenger, 

ind  Ohio  Regt^ 
Wm.  H.  Reddick, 

Jno.  Wollam, 

D.  A.  Dorsey, 

M.  J.  Hawkins, 

Jacob  Parrott, 

33n/  Ohio  Regt^ 


‘All  of  Sill’s  Brigade,  Buell’s  Division. 


“Respectfully  forwarded  to  Gen.  Slaughter, 

“ G.  W.  Lee, 

“ Commanding  Post.” 


tTo, 


il'fuiC  if , 

fp  Cc4^.ei.d£i 

eirA^ea.cAjt. 


Photo-lithographs  of  Endorsements  by  Gen.  Bragg  and  others. 


A Daring  Escape. 


309 


Endorsements  on  the  Petition  of  the  Andrews  Raiders  by  Jefferson  Davis  and  others.  Photo-lithographed. 


On  these  endorsements  we  observe  that  Lee,  Commanding  Post,  prom- 
ised to  forward  the  paper,  which  was  all  we  asked  of  him.  Bragg  is  entire- 
ly non-committal,  not  even  using  the  opprobrious  names  to  which  we 
were  so  well  accustorned  of  “ engine-thieves^'  and  “ spies. But  he  feels 
that  the  case  is  large  enough  for  the  attention  of  the  authorities  at  Rich- 
mond. Randolph,  the  Secretary  of  War,  has  the  same  indisposition  to 
deal  with  the  matter  on  his  own  authority,  being  in  this  very  unlike  our 
own  Stanton,  but  makes  a recommendation  that  was  perhaps  as  reasonable 
and  humane,  as  we  could  have  hoped.  To  spare  our  lives  and  by  holding 
us  as  hostages,  to  make  us  contribute  to  saving  the  lives  of  some  un- 
fortunate rebels  in  Union  hands,  would  have  been  a policy  which  might 
have  been  pursued  at  first  with  good  results,  and  which  could  have  been 
boldly  avowed  and  justified. 

But  the  nature  of  Davis  did  not  incline  toward  mercy.  He  seemed  to 
prefer  exacting  the  pound  of  flesh.  With  his  own  hand  he  wrote  the 
order  for  an  inquiry  to  be  set  on  foot  as  to  why  we  had  not  been  hung 
with  our  comrades- — for  this  is  the  plain  English  of  it.  He  does  not  say 
that  if  nothing  is  found  to  justify  a discrimination  in  our  favor  we  must 
yet  be  dealt  with  in  the  same  manner,  but  this  is  the  fair  inference,  and  it 


310 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


was  so  understood  when  the  inquiries  were  set  on  foot.  But  the  answers 
show  that  it  was  not  easy  to  gain  the  desired  information. 

“Headquarters,  Atlanta,  Ga.,  Sept.  i6,  1862. 

“ Hon.  G.  W.  Randolph,  Secretary  of  War,  Richmond,  Va. 

“Sir: — Your  communication  of  the  iith  inst.  is  duly  to  hand.  In  reply,  I have 
respectfully  to  say  that  the  arrest,  incarceration,  trial  and  execution  of  the  prisoners  you 
refer  to  occurred  before  I took  charge  of  this  post  by  your  order.  I found  a number  of 
prisoners  on  my  arrival,  and  among  them  the  men  named  in  the  petition  transmitted. 

“ Inclosed  I transmit  the  papers  handed  over  to  me  by  my  predecessor.  Since  the 
reception  of  your  letter,  I have  endeavored  to  find  Captain  Foreacre,  and  ascertain  some- 
thing more,  explaining  what  I was  not  conversant  with  in  the  transaction,  but  as  his  busi- 
ness takes  him  away  from  the  city,  I have  not  as  yet  had  an  interview  with  him.  I will 
still  seek  occasion  to  find  him,  and  give  you  all  the  information  learned  from  him.  You 
will  please  find  inclosed  the  names  of  the  engine-stealers  and  bridge-burners  who  are  con- 
fined in  the  jail  of  this  city.  It  is  entirely  out  of  my  power  to  answer  you  as  to  ‘why' 
fourteen  of  the  engine  thieves  were  respited  while  the  others  were  executed,  and  whether 
or  not  there  is  anything  to  justify  a discrimination  in  their  favor  ?’  as  I am  not  informed 
in  relation  to  the  proceedings  of  the  court-martial  that  tried  the  men. 

“ I am,  sir, 

“ Respectfully  your  obt.  servt., 

“G.  W.  Lee, 

“ Commanding  Post,  and  Provost-Marshal.” 


^^List  of  Prisoners  sent  to  Atlanta^  Ga.,  June  13,  1S62,  from  Knoxville,  Tenn.,  by 
command  of  Major-General  E.  Kirby  Smith: 


NAMES. 

RESIDENCE. 

CHARGES. 

SPIES. 

I. 

Wilson  Brown 

Court-martialled  and 

sentenced . 

. Engine-steali: 

2. 

Marion  Ross 

ii 

(( 

•{( 

((  A i( 

3. 

W.  H.  Campbell 

(( 

(( 

(( 

(<  6( 

4- 

John  Scott 

<< 

({ 

a ^6 

5. 

Perry  G.  Shadrach. . . . 

(( 

(( 

(( 

((  t( 

6. 

G.  D.  Wilson 

({ 

'(( 

(t 

<(  ti 

7. 

Samuel  Slavens 

({ 

(< 

a 

<*  << 

8. 

S.  Robinson 

H 

<< 

<<  {( 

9- 

E.  H.  Mason.  *. 

(( 

<< 

a (( 

10. 

Wm.  Knight 

a 

<<  <( 

II. 

Robt.  Buftins 

({ 

■ << 

((  iC 

12. 

Wm.  Pettinger 

a 

a 

13.  Captain  David  Fry Green  Co.,  Tenn Bridge-burning  and  recruiting  for 

Federal  army. 

14.  G.  W.  Barlow Washington  Co.,  Tenn.  .Obstructing  railroad  track. 

15.  Thos.  McCoy Morgan  Co.,  “ 1 

Peter  Pierce Campbell  Co.,  “ ! Prisoners  of  war.— Federal  sob 

John  Barker Estill  Co.,  “ | ^^i^rs. 

Bennet  Powers Lincoln  Co.,  “ J 


A Daring  Escape. 


311 


NAMES.  RESIDENCE.  CHARGES. 

POLITICAL  PRISONERS. 

Ransom  White Morgan  Co.,  Tenn.  1 Citizens  aiding  the  enemy. 

^ John  Walls Blount  Co.,  Trying  to  go  to  Kentucky. 

John  Green Union  Co.,  | Rebellion 

John  Tompkins . .Washington  Co.,  “ J “ 

Henry  Miller Sullivan  Co.,  “ . . .Suspected  as  a spy. 

William  Thompson Arrested  at  Bristol ‘‘  “ “ 

“ Respectfully  submitted  by  order. 

. “ Wm.  M.  Churchwell, 

^ “ Colonel,  and  Provost-Marshal.” 

List  of  Prisoners  in  Atlanta  City  Jail.,  September  16,  1862. 
ENGINE-STEALERS. 


M.  J.  Hawkins, 

W.  Knight, 

M.  Wood, 

J.  Parrott, 

W.  Pettinger, 

W.  W.  Brown, 

W.  Bensinger, 

W.  Reddick, 

R.  Bufman, 

A.  Wilson, 

D.  A.  Dorsey, 

David  Fry, 

E.  H.  Mason, 

J.  K.  Porter, 

J.  J.  Barker. 

BRIDGE-BURNERS. 

T.  McCoy, 

H.  Mills, 

Jno.  Walls, 

B.  Powers, 

G.  D.  Barlow, 

R.  White, 

Jno.  Green, 

P.  Pierce, 

Jno.  Wollam. 

J.  Tompkins, 

The  seven  death  sentences  were  also  enclosed,  which  were  precisely 
alike,  and  none  of  which  gave  the  slightest  information  regarding  those 
who  were  spared.  These  lists  also  were  equally  indefinite.  The  mere 
fact  that  we  were  charged  with  “engine-stealing”  would  hardly  justify 
the  death  penalty,  even  with  the  word  “spies”  interlined.  But  it  might 
require  a court-martial,  and  this  would  have  been  to  us  the  signal  of 
death.  The  reader  must  bear  in  mind,  however,  that  we  as  yet  knev/ 
nothing  of  this  save  indirectly  in  a way  to  be  stated  hereafter.  But  Lee 
made  one  more  attempt  to  gain  information  and  forwarded  the  result 
to  Richmond  the  next  day. 


t “ Headquarters,  Atlanta,  Ga.,  September  17,  1862. 

Hon.  G.  W.  Randolph,  Secretary  of  War,  Richmond,  Va. 

‘‘  Sir, — I respectfully  forward  to  you  hereby  all  that  I have  been  enabled  to  obtain 
from  my  predecessor.  Captain  Foreacre. 

“ The  documents  relating  to  the  cases,  so  far  as  I know  anything  about  them,  were 
forwarded  to  you  on  yesterday. 

“ I am,  sir,  very  respectfully, 

, “ Your  obedient  servant, 

‘‘G.  W.  Lee, 

“ Commanding  Post,  and  Provost- Marshal.” 


312 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


‘‘  Atlanta,  Ga.,  September  i6,  1862. 

“Hon.  G.  W.  Randolph,  Secretary  of  War,  Richmond,  Va. 

“Dear  Sir, — Your  letter  of  September  ii,  1862,  to  Major  Lee,  provost-marshal, 
has  been  shown  me  by  him,  and,  as  far  as  I am  acquainted  with  the  matter,  Geneml  Smith 
only  sent  from  Knoxville  instructions  and  orders  to  have  seven  of  them  hung,  which  was 
promptly  attended  to  by  myself. 

“The  remaining  fourteen  were  reported  to  this  office  only  for  safe-keeping, — some 
having  been  tried,  but  not  sentenced,  and  others  not  tried.  The  only  office  which  can 
properly  answer  your  inquiry  is  that  of  Major-General  E.  K.  Smith. 

“ I have  the  honor  to  remain, 

“Your  obedient  servant, 

“ G.  I.  Foreacre," 

The  above  letter  from  Capt.  Foreacre  is  in  error  in  saying  that  some 
of  us  had  been  tried.  It  also  contains  one  of  the  most  heartless  sentences 
that  ever  came  from  rebel  pen,  ‘^Gen.  Smith  only  sent  from  Knoxville 
instructions  and  orders  to  have  seven  of  them  hung,  which  was  promptly 
attended  to  by  myself  D (Italics  mine). 

While  this  correspondence  was  pending  Capt.  Lee  visited  us  in  search 
of  information.  We  took  the  liberty  of  telling  how  our  seven  comrades 
had  been  put  to  death  without  warning.  He  seemed  shocked,  and  said 
that  he  heartily  disapproved  such  a proceedings  for  which  he  was  in  no 
way  responsible,  as  he  was  not  then  in  authority.  He  also  told  us  that 
he  had  been  asked  from  Richmond  to  state  the  reasons  for  our  being 
dealt  with  more  leniently  than  the  others.  Some  of  our  numbers  would 
have  gladly  made  up  a new  story,  but  the  time  was  short  and  the  case  too 
difficult.  So  they  simply  said  that  it  was  the  judgment  of  the  court  that 
we  were  not  so  much  to  blame  as  those  who  perished.  The  Marshal 
listened,  but  did  not  seem  satisfied,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  he  makes 
no  reference  to  the  statement  of  the  prisoners,  in  his  letter  to  the  Sec- 
retary of  War.  He  promised  to  let  us  know  what  conclusion  was  reached 
at  Richmond,  but  never  did  so.  Indeed,  it  was  scarcely  to  be  expected; 
and  the  idea  of  an  officer  holding  such  a consultation  with  the  men  who 
were  at  his  mercy  seems  absurd.  The  next  time  we  saw  him  was  under 
widely  different  circumstances.  Whether  Davis  ever  did  obtain  the  in- 
formation he  desired  as  to  why  our  lives  were  prolonged  is  doubtful.  The 
court-martial  to  which  he  was  referred  had  long  since  dispersed,  and  pos- 
sibly many  of  its  members  had  fallen  by  Union  bullets,  while  no  record 
of  its  proceedings  have,  so  far,  been  discovered.  But  we  received  a few 
days  after  sufficiently  alarming  information. 

The  visit  of  Lee  convinced  some  of  our  party  that  it  was  time  to  act, 
since  if  the  rebel  authorities  had  turned  their  attention  again  to  us,  we 
had  nothing  to  hope.  But  I was  of  another  opinion.  The  difficulties  of 
an  escape  were  so  enormous  that  I judged  only  the  feeling  that  we  could 


A Daring  Escape. 


313 


be  saved  in  no  other  way  would  enable  us  to  attack  the  guards  with  suffic- 
ient desperation  to  secure  success;  and  I was  also  convinced  that  no  mode 
of  escape  was  feasible  which  did  not  involve  the  conquering  of  the  guard. 
That  I was  right  was  proved  by  the  fact  that  in  the  actual  attempt  the 
Tennesseeans  and  the  other  soldiers  in  the  jail  completely  failed,  though 
they  had  been  anxious  for  the  attempt  before  the  trial  came. 

Several  circumstances  conspired  to  end  all  hesitation.  The  jailer 
looked  at  us  with  a great  deal  of  compassion,  and  said  to  the  soldiers  in 
the  front  room  that  he  was  very  sorry  for  those  Ohio  boys,  for  he  feared 
they  would  all  be  hung.  This  was  duly  “ telegraphed  to  us.  Then  the 
guard  was  strengthened  and  there  was  an  appearance  of  unusual  vigilance. 
A solitary  horseman  was  one  day  seen  riding  over  the  hill  toward  the  jail. 
We  could  not  from  our  room  see  the  gate, 
and  we  waited  with  some  interest  to  learn 
whether  he  would  ride  past,  but  he  did 
not;  after  a little  while  he  rode  slowly  back 
the  way  he  came  with  his  head  down  as  if 
in  deep  study.  We  ^^telegraphed  ” to  the 
front  room  to  see  if  they  had  noticed  him. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  the  answer 
came,  but  when  it  did,  it  was  like  the  knell 
of  doom.  Geo.  W.  Walton,  the  taller  of 
the  regulars  confined  there,  wrote  us  a note 
saying  that  the  man  came  up  to  the  gate, 
and  calling  Turner  out,  had  charged  him 
to  keep  a very  sharp  look-out  on  those 
'^engine-thieves,'*  for  orders  had  been  re- 
ceived from  Richmond  to  have  them  all 
court-martialed  and  hung.  Walton  and 
his  companions  advised  us  to  escape  if  we  could,  and  promised  to  dr 
what  they  could  to  help  us.  This  was  great  news  indeed,  and  all  contro 
versy  as  to  escaping  was  ended.  But  how  ? 

As  usual  there  were  two  classes  of  proposals — the  one  for  secret  work, 
the  other  for  open  force.  The  first  wished  to  try  the  same  plan  in  sub- 
stance that  had  been  employed  at  Chattanooga;  to  saw  off  a few  bars  from 
one  of  our  windows  with  a knife  which  Wilson  had,  wait  for  a dark  night, 
and,  making  ropes  of  our  blankets,  descend,  one  by  one,  slip  past  the 
guard,  climb  the  high  fence,  and  then  hunt  the  way  to  the  borders  of  the 
Confederacy.  My  objections  to  this  plan  were  obvious.  We  were  liable 
to  be  discovered  in  the  cutting  of  the  bars,  which  would  be  a slow  process. 
It  might  be  some  time  before  a dark  night  was  found,  for  it  was  now  in 
October,  and  the  weather  was  very  fine;  and  in  the  meantime  the  court 
might  begin  its  deadly  work,  or  irons  be  welded  upon  us  as  had  been  done 


George  W.  Walton.  From  a photo- 
graph. 


3H 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


with  Andrews.  If  none  of  these  obstacles  arose,  and  we  were  ready  to 
start,  it  was  almost  certain  that  not  more  than  one  or  two  could  get  away 
by  this  means.  We  had  but  two  windows  and  they  were  closely  watched. 
There  were  seven  guards  on  duty  all  the  time,  who  were  relieved  every 
two  hours,  and  their  vigilance  directed  toward  us.  It  was  by  no  means 
likely  that  many  persons  could  climb  down  a rope  right  from  windows 
thus  watched,  alight,  and  scale  a fence  in  plain  view,  before  the  alarm  was 
given.  I would  have  had  no  hope  of  success. 

But  in  the  other  plan,  we  could  not  fail  if  every  one  did  his  exact  duty, 
and  we  were  now  so  well  acquainted  that  we  had  perfect  confidence  in 
each  other.  It  was  simply  to  attack  our  foes  in  broad  daylight.  When 
our  food  was  brought  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  door  opened  we  could  rush 
out,  seizing  and  holding  perfectly  quiet  the  jailer  and  his  assistant,  threat- 
ening them  with  death  if  they  moved,  unlocking  all  the  doors  so  that  we 
might  have  the  assistance  of  all  the  prisoners,  and  then  charge  upon  the 
seven  soldiers  below,  dispossessing  them  of  their  muskets  in  the  first  rush; 
and  if  this  was  done  without  noise  or  alarm,  march  them  up  into  our  room, 
and  gag  them  there.  It  was  not  likely,  however,  that  we  would  be  able 
to  keep  everything  quiet  enough  for  this;  in  which  case  we  were  to  run  as 
soon  as  an  alarm  was  raised,  for  we  knew  that  there  was  a strong  reserve 
close  by,  and  did  not  feel  able  to  reckon  with  any  more  than  the  seven 
rebels  on  hand.  In  our  own  room  there  were  fifteen  men,  of  whom  two. 
Wood  and  Dorsey,  had  been  sick  so  long  that,  though  full  of  enthusiasm, 
they  could  not  promise  to  be  efficient  in  a fray.  There  were  four  pris- 
oners of  war  and  a rebel  deserter  in  the  front  room,  and  some  ten  or 
twelve  other  prisoners  in  the  remaining  rooms,  so  that  our  force  was 
formidable  in  numbers,  at  least.  But  we  did  not  base  our  plans  on  any 
help  outside  of  our  own  room,  and  the  issue  proved  this  to  be  wise. 

In  such  an  attack,  the  element  of  time  and  exact  planning  of  every 
man’s  work  so  that  there  is  no  confusion  and  hesitation,  are  of  vital  im- 
portance. We  arranged  with  the  utmost  nicety.  Captain  Fry  was  to  begin 
the  movement,  for  he  was  the  oldest,  and  we  gave  him  the  post  of  honor;  I 
was  to  stand  by  and  help  him  with  the  jailer  and  the  watchman  Thoer, 
if  the  latter  was  on  hand  as  he  usually  was;  probably  I was  given  this 
place  from  the  correct  view  that  with  my  poor  eyes  I would  be  of  more 
service  in  a scuffle  in  the  hall  than  in  the  glaring  light  outside.  Then 
Buffum,  who  was  as  agile  as  a cat,  was  to  snatch  the  keys,  and,  waiting 
for  nothing  else,  to  open  all  the  doors  above.  There  were  three,  and  the 
fitting  of  keys  from  the  bunch  under  such  excitement  was  likely  to  make 
this  take  some  time.  I think  no  one  of  us  felt  that  Buffum  had  a desir- 
able office.  But  it  was  advisable  to  have  all  the  prisoners  released  if  only 
to  distract  the  pursuit.  All  the  others  were  arranged  into  two  bands  with 
leaders,  to  slip  down  the  stairway  at  the  proper  time  and  break  out 


A Daring  Escape, 


315 


on  the  guards  at  the  front  and  rear  doors  simultaneously.  Then  quick- 
ness, courage,  and  desperation  were  to  be  pitted  against  loaded  muskets 
and  bayonets,  and  the  issue  left  to  the  God  of  battles. 

We  had  also  chosen  our  comrades  and  routes.  We  were  to  travel  in 
pairs  and  in  every  direction.  Captain  Fry  was  to  be  my  partner,  and 
all  the  rest  considered  that  I was  fortunate,  for  he  would  be  at  home  in  the 
Cumberland  mountains,  toward  which  we  were  to  journey.  The  intended 
course  was  marked  out  for  each  couple  and  everything  done  to  forward 
the  movement  on  which  we  believed  depended  our  last  chance  of  escaping 
the  gallows.  We  did  not  forget  to  make  most  earnest  supplications  in 
prayer,  and  to  vow,  in  the  old-time  manner,  that  we  would  render  faithful 
service  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts  if  he  would  aid  us  in  this  great  emergency. 

It  was  afternoon  when  we  received  the  intelligence  which  determined 
our  action  and  we  could  not  very  well  be  ready  to  start  that  day.  So  the 
work  was  set  for  the  following  afternoon.  We  patched  our  shoes  as  well 
as  we  could,  and  made  cloth  moccasins  to  protect  our  feet,  for  many  shoes 
were  worn  out.  We  gave  messages  to  each  other  beginning  with  the  form, 
“ If  you  get  out  and  I do  not — for  we  could  not  tell  who  would  be  the 
fortunate  ones  in  the  effort,  or  how  many  might  fall.  We  had  a strong 
conviction  of  success,  but  whether  seven  guards  would  allow  their  muskets 
to  be  taken  without  using  bullet  or  bayonet  against  some  of  their  assail- 
ants with  fatal  effect,  seemed  more  than  doubtful.  I have  made  ready 
for  battle  more  than  once,  but  never  had  so  deep  and  solemn  a realization 
of  the  uncertainty  of  the  issue  as  on  this  occasion. 

The  last  night  that  we  ever  spent  together  was  a very  quiet  one.  We 
sung  but  little, — only  the  usual  number  of  hymns  in  our  worship.  But 
we  talked  late  and  thoughtfully.  We  were  never  all  to  meet  again  in  this 
world,  and  the  shadow  of  the  separation  was  already  upon  us. 

The  next  day  was  long  and  tedious.  All  our  usual  exercises  had  lost 
their  zest  and  we  could  do  little  but  discuss  in  low  tones  the  coming  effort. 
We  would  not  risk  an  attack  in  the  morning,  for  that  would  have  given 
our  enemies  all  day  to  search  for  us.  It  was  far  better  to  wait  for  evening, 
even  if  the  day  seemed  well-nigh  endless.  Slowly  the  sun  rose  up,  reached 
the  meridian  and  disappeared  behind  the  jail.  We  watched  the  shadow 
slowly  moving  up  the  hill  opposite  our  window  till  it  had  well-nigh  reached 
the  line  on  the  summit  that  usually  marked  our  supper-time.  The  hour 
was  come  ! We  shook  hands  with  a strong,  lingering  clasp,  for  we 
knew  not  how  many  of  us  might  be  cold  in  death  before  the  stars  came 
out.  Captain  Fry,  who  was  tender-hearted  as  a child,  wept  at  the  parting. 
He  had  two  coats  and  as  he  had  immediate  use  for  one  only,  he  loaned 
■'Fe  other  to  me.  It  was  a wonderful  boon,  for  I was  nearly  destitute  of 
Clothing.  Everything  that  we  felt  ought  to  be  taken  we  secured  about  us, 
so  as  not  to  be  in  the  way  in  the  coming  struggle.  We  still  had  on  hand 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


316 

a lot  of  books  belonging  to  the  preacher  who  had  sent  them  in  not  long 
before.  We  had  not  dared  to  return  them  for  fear  of  arousing  suspic- 
ion, and  I carefully  piled  them  in  the  corner,  and  wrote  him  a note  thank- 
ing him  for  the  use  of  them.  I also  wrote  a few  words  of  presentation 
and  gratitude  in  the  “ Pilgrim’s  Progress,”  one  of  the  three  books  I had  pur- 
chased in  the  prison,  as  the  other  two  were  fully  as  many  as  I wished  to 
take  with  me  in  the  desperate  race  for  life.  There  was  nothing  more  to 
do,  and  we  sat  around  in  rather  uneasy  suspense  waiting  for  the  coming 
of  the  jailer  with  the  servants  to  bring  our  food. 

At  length  the  noise  of  shuffling  feet  and  the  voices  of  the  colored  wom- 
en who  carried  in  our  provision  was  heard  in  the  hall — a sound  always 
welcome,  for  we  were  hungry  enough  to  make  the  coming  of  our  miserable 
dinner  a great  event.  The  door  was  unlocked — only  one  was  kept  fasten- 
ed in  the  day-time  now — our  food  was  handed  in  and  the  door  locked  as 
usual,  while  the  company  moved  on  to  give  rations  to  the  other  prisoners. 
We  did  not  wish  to  make  the  attack  until  the  slender  morsel  of  food  was 
eaten  or  secured,  as  it  was  too  valuable  to  be  neglected.  With  great  sat- 
isfaction we  had  noticed  that  the  cross  old  watchman  Thoer  was  absent. 
It  so  happened  that  he  had  been  called  away  that  day,  and  his  place  had 
not  been  supplied.  So  far  as  I remember  this  was  the  only  time  that  he 
failed  to  be  at  his  post,  and  Marshal  Lee  blames  Turner  severely  for  com- 
ing to  us  without  some  helper.  It  was  not  less  fortunate  for  Thoer  than 
for  us  that  he  was  not  present ! We  ate  a few  bites  of  the  food  and 
secured  the  rest:  we  were  ready. 

Again  we  heard  the  shuffling  feet  in  the  hall  as  the  waiters  returned. 
For  a moment  I felt  a sharp  knife-like  pang  shoot  to  my  heart.  So'  keen 
was  it,  that  I thought  for  a moment  that  my  physical  strength  was  about 
to  fail  in  this  time  of  sore  need  — something  that  had  never  happened,  or 
even  been  feared  before,  for  always  in  the  presence  of  danger  I had 
possessed  more  than  usual  power.  But  in  an  instant  it  passed  away,  and 
I looked  about  to  see  if  all  were  at  their  post.  A glance  was  enough  to 
show  that  there  would  be  no  flinching.  The  men  looked  pale  but  their 
teeth  were  firmly  set,  and  they  were  leaning  slightly  forward  like  a horse 
straining  on  the  bridle.  If  there  was  any  fear  it  was  that  they  would  strike 
even  too  soon.  As  for  Captain  Fry,  whom  I had  seen  weeping  a few 
moments  before,  he  was  perfectly  calm  and  his  face  wore  a pleasant 
smile. 

As  the  jailer  unlocked  and  opened  the  door  for  the  bread-pans  to  be 
passed  out.  Fry  stepped  forward  in  such  a manner  that  it  could  not  be 
closed,  and  said  very  quietly  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world: 

“ A pleasant  evening,  Mr.  Turner. 

We  had  no  thought  of  hurting  the  old  man,  if  it  could  possibly  be 


A Daring  Escape.  317 

avoided^  and  hoped  to  frighten  him  into  surrendering  and  giving  up  the 
keys  without  any  alarm. 

“ Yes,  rather  pleasant/’  responded  he  in  a dazed  and  bewildered  man- 
• ner.  He  could  not  understand  what  Fry  had  come  out  there  for. 

The  action  of  the  next  few  moments  was  so  quick  and  under  such  a 
fever  of  excitement  that  accounts  of  both  words  and  deeds  vary  widely. 
I have  reconciled  them  as  far  as  T can,  not  always  following  my  own  recol- 
lections when  the  preponderance  of  evidence  is  strongly  against  me. 

“ We  are  going  to  take  a little  walk  this  evening, — we  are  going  out  of 
9 here,’^  continued  Fry  standing  close  to  him,  and  looking  in  his  eye  to  see 
the  first  symptom  of  a motion.  I was  by  his  side  equally  watchful.  There 
was  no  fear  of  an  alarm  being 
given  by  the  colored  women.  They 
were  frightened  nearly  white,  but 
were  our  friends,  and  had  enough 
of  their  wits  about  them  to  remain 

* silent. 

Turner  seemed  undecided. 

“How-  about  the  guards?”  he 
said  in  a feeble  tone.  We  were 
nearly  all  in  the  entry  now,  for 
there  had  been  a slow,  almost  un- 

* conscious  edging  forward,  and  half 
a dozen  low,  quick  voices  an- 
swered, “ We^ll  attend  to  the 
guard,  Mr.  Turner.^^ 

“Well,  you  can  go  then,”  he 
said  trembling,  while  his  face 
^ seemed  to  grow  even  whiter,  for 
our  looks  were  not  pleasant. 

“Well,  give  us  the  keys,  then,  and  you’ll  not  be  hurt,  said  Fry,  while 
Buffum  reached  oiit  his  hand  to  take  them. 

The  action  seemed  to  rouse  Turner  like  an  electric  spark.  “Wou 
can’t  do  that,”  he  said,  and  then  sprang  back,  and  opened  his  mouth  in 
the  cry,  “ Guar — ” when  my  hand  closed  over  his  mouth,  and  stifled  the 
incipient  alarm.  It  was  scarcely  fair,  but  in  a moment  the  three  of  us 
were  upon  him;  Fry  had  clasped  him  round  the  body  and  arms  in  no 
gentle  embrace,  Buffum  had  wrested  away  his  keys,  and  was  off  like  a 
shot  and  unlocking  the  doors  as  if  his  life  depended  upon  it,  while  my 
hand  had  effectually  stopped  all  noise.  He  bit  my  finger  with  all  his 
might,  but  the  teeth  were  not  sharp  enough  to  do  any  real  injury,  and  the 

* other  bands  were  gliding  down  stairs. 

Buffum  unlocked  all  the  doors  easily  till  he  came  to  the  last  one,  in 


Robert  Buffum.  From  a war-time  photograph. 


3i8  Daring  and  Suffering. 

which  were  the  four  Union  soldiers  and  the  rebel  deserter.  Not  one  in 
the  other  rooms  dared  come  forth  ! But  the  deserter  was  intensely 
anxious.  He  encouraged  Buffum  saying  “ Don’t  hurry,  it  will  come  in  a 
moment.”  Finally  it  yielded,  and  the  poor  fellow  flung  himself  out  like 
a shot  from  a cannon,  and  was  soon  in  the  front  of  the  flight;  but  the 
four  others  remained  inside. 

One  of  the  points  about  which  there  is  a little  difference  o\  opinion 
among  us  is  whether  the  attack  on  the  guard  below  was  not  a few  seconds 
too  quick — a most  natural  error,  under  the  circumstances.  It  all  the 
doors  could  have  been  first  unlocked,  and  all  who  were  willing  t^:>  go  have 
been  ready,  the  jailor  bound  and  gagged,  and  the  whole  number,  led  by 

those  who  had  been  appointed 
for  the  work,  had  burst  upon  the 
guard  together,  it  is  possible 
that  the  victory  would  have  been 
more  decisive,  and  the  number 
of  escapes  larger.  But  Knight 
thought,  as  he  was  gliding  cau- 
tiously down  the  stairway,  that 
there  was  a movement  in  the 
group  of  guards  by  the  front 
gate  indicating  alarm.  In  this 
case  the  attack  could  not  be 
delayed,  and  it  was  made  with 
surpassing  boldness  and  success. 

Porter  and  Bensinger  led  at 
the  back  door.  The  former 
grabbed  the  gun  of  a guard  that 
stood  near,  and  jerked  so  hard 
that  the  guard  suddenly  letting 
go.  Porter  fell  flat,  but  was  on  his  feet  in  a moment.  Bensinger  caught 
the  sentinel  who  was  disarmed  and  held  him  perfectly  quiet.  Another 
enemy  was  in  the  corner  of  the  yard,  and,  seeing  the  rush,  brought  his 
gun  up,  but  before  he  could  take  aim.  Porter’s  musket  had  covered  him, 
and  he  was  emphatically  and  briefly  warned  that  any  movement  would 
forfeit  hiS' life.  The  third  guard  in  the  back  yard  was  at  once  overpow- 
ered and  knocked  down,  though  not  seriously  injured,  and  in  a moment 
the  victory  was  completely  won  in  this  quarter.  It  was  time,  for  matters 
had  not  gone  as  well  in  the  front  yard. 

Knight  and  Brown  went  down  the  stairway  as  softly  as  cats,  but  the 
passage  behind  them  was  filled  for  a little  time  with  those  who  were  to 
make  the  attack  at  the  back  door,  which  left  them  without  support,  two 
men  against  four,  and  the  latter  armed.  But  they  did  not  for  a moment 


Wm.  Bensinger.  From  a war-time  photograph. 


Seizing  the  Guard. 


320 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


hesitate  though  the  guards  were,  unfortunately,  not  near  the  door. 
Knight  darted  on  the  nearest,  who  was  by  the  fence,  and  as  he  was  bring- 
ing the  gun  down  to  a charge,  Knight  seized  it  with  his  left  hand  and 
struck  its  owner  so  powerfully  with  his  right  that  the  gun  was  instantly  re- 
leased. Brown  had  dealt  with  another  in  an  equally  effective  manner  and 
reinforcements  for  the  prisoners  were  now  coming;  but  two  other  guards 
who  were  close  to  the  gate,  instead  of  standing  their  ground,  ran  out  and 
raised  a great  outcry.  Wilson^  Dorsey,  and  others,  threw  some  loose 
bricks  which  happened  to  be  handy,  after  them,  and  prepared  to  charge 
out  through  the  gate,  when  Knight  heard  the  running  of  the  reserve  guard  up 
the  road,  and  flinging  away  his  musket  gav.e  the  word^  “ Boys,  weVe  got 
to  get  out  of  this;’^  then  hurrying  through  the  hall  and  down  to  the  lower 
corner  of  the  yard,  was  in  a moment  to  the  top  of  the  fence,  being  the 
first  over,  but  was  closely  followed  by  the  others.  The  fence  was  nine  or 
ten  feet  high  and  was  no  slight  obstacle,  but  it  was  soon  passed  and  then 
followed  a most  desperate  and  exciting  chase. 

All  of  this  took  but  a moment.  The  negro  waiters  had  kept  perfect- 
ly quiet,  looking  on  the  proceedings  with  the  greatest  interest,  and  only 
beginning  to  scream  when  the  noise  outside  convinced  them  that  they 
might  as  well  contribute  their  share.  Buffum  had  just  succeeded  in  open- 
ing the  last  door,  and  flinging  it  wide  with  an  impatient,  “ There  now,’' 
when  the  thrilling  outcry  from  below  warned  him  that  his  own  departure 
must  be  no  longer  delayed.  Fry  and  myself  had  been  engaged  in  secur- 
ing the  jailer,  who  though  old,  was  powerful,  and  fought  vigorously,  but 
had  not  finished,  when  we  were  warned  by  the  uproar  that  all  thought  of 
a quiet  departure  was  at  an  end,  and  that  there  was  no  longer  a motive 
in  holding  on  to  Turner.  We  all  rushed  down  stairs  as'bestwe  could, 
well  knowing  that  we  would  now  be  last  in  the  flight,  which  was  not  the 
post  of  safety.  The  deserter  passed  us  all  like  a tiger  on  the  leap — I 
never  saw  such  speed  in  a narrow  place — and  getting  to  the  back  door 
found  two  guards  awaiting  him  with  bayonets  at  the  charge.  He  seized 
one  in  each  hand,  cutting  himself  severely,  but  flinging  them  aside  so 
forcibly  that  the  men  were  very  nearly  overthrown,  and  then  with  the  same 
swiftness  continued  over  the  fence,  and  on  to  the  woods,  soon  being  in 
advance  of. all  the  fugitives.  I learned  that  he  escaped  to  Washington, 
but  months  after  returning  south  secretly  to  visit  his  family,  was  captured, 
recognized,  and  hanged. 

Buffum  followed  after  him  and  got  over  the  fence  without  difficulty, 
but  though  a very  brave  man  and  a hard  fighter,  he  was  a poor  runner. 
One  rebel  who  was  quite  swift-footed  kept  right  after  him,  gaining  con- 
tinually, and  threatening  to  shoot  him  if  he  did  not  stop.  To  this  Buffum 
paid  no  attention,  for  a running  man  has  an  unsteady  hand  and  an  un- 
certain aim,  but  he  soon  stopped  because  of  utter  exhaustion,  jast  as  the 


A Daring  Escape. 


321 


man  overtook  him.  Now  Buffum  thought  it  the  right  time  to  try  his 
“ Yankee  wit;”  so  he  threw  himself  down  and  said,  “ I am  so  done  out 

• that  I can  go  no  further;  you  run  on  and  catch  that  fellow,”  pointing  to 
a fugitive  running  a short  distance  ahead.  But  the  man  saw  the  design 
and  with  a great  oath  declared  that  he  had  him  now  and  meant  to  keep 
him.  Poor  Buftum  was  allowed  a very  brief  time  to  rest,  and  then  was 
marched  back  again  to  the  prison.  I have  scarcely  a doubt  that  if  he 
had  not  waited  to  unlock  the  doors  he  would  have  made  good  his  own 
escape. 

Captain  Fry  and  myself  were  close  together  in  going  down  the  stairs, 
he  being  a little  in  advance.  At  a glance  he  saw  there  was  no  chance  in 
the  front  yard — the  way  we  had  intended  to  take — and  at  once  turned  to 
the  back  door,  which  was  left  open  by  the  passage  of  the  rebel  deserter. 
He  got  over  the  wall  with  little  effort,  but  finding  himself  chased  as  Buffum 
had  been,  he  used  a little  strategy,  A good  many  shots  were  being  fired 
i in  all  directions,  and  he  suddenly  threw  up  his  hands  and  fell  flat.  Those 
who  were  following  him  passed  on  after  unwounded  game,  and  when  the 
way  was  clear  he  arose  and  resumed  his  course.  He  was  seen  again  and 
had  a most  desperate  chase,  but  reached  the  shelter  of  the  friendly  woods. 
Wilson  and  Wood  in  their  account  written  from  Pensacola  pronounced 
him  killed,  and  for  a long  time  his  death  was  firmly  believed  in.  But  he 
succeeded  in  reaching  Kentucky  in  safety,  although  his  trip  took  more 
than  two  months, — longer  than  any  of  the  others.  He  journeyed  north-east 
through  Georgia  into  North  Carolina,  then  into  East  Tennessee,  and  finally 
across  a corner  of  Virginia  into  the  Union  lines  in  Kentucky.  During 
most  of  this  time  he  travelled  by  night  and  hid  in  the  woods  and  moun- 
tains by  day.  For  twenty-one  days  at  a time  he  was  not  in  a house. 
These  hardships  almost  completely  wrecked  him  physically,  but  he  recov- 

• ered,  reentered  to  the  Union  Army,  became  a colonel,  and  rendered  most 
efficient  ser\dce  to  the  close  of  the  war. 

At  no  time  in  all  my  southern  experience  did  I find  defective  vision  to 
be  such  a dreadful  misfortune  as  just  now.  My  eyes  were  easily  dazzled 
by  a sudden  increase  of  light,  and  as  I came  out  of  the  obscurity  into  the 
broad  light,  for  some  seconds  I could  scarcely  see  at  all.  In  this  interval 

• I was  parted  from  Fry  by  running  to  the  front  door  according  to  our 
original  plan.  There  were  two  frightened  guards  in  the  gate  tossing  their 
guns  about  and  seeming  not  to  know  what  they  should  do.  These  were 
not  dangerous  looking  and  I ran  up  to  them — for  now  the  power  of  seeing 
had  come  back;  but  just  as  I was  about  darting  out  of  the  gate,  I saw 
the  stream  of  guards  outside.  They  called  on  me  to  surrender,  but  I was 

j not  ready  for  that  and  hurried  back  into  the  yard.  A sentinel  tried  to 
shoot  me  at  point-blank  range,  but  fortunately,  his  gun  failed  to  go  off. 
I got  back  into  the  jail  and  now  started  out  the  back  way — the  course  I 


21 


322 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


should  have  taken  at  first.  There  were  a number  of  guards  in  the  back 
yard  by  this  time,  but  in  the  confusion  I got  through  them,  and  to  the 
top  of  the  fence.  What  was  my  dismay  to  see  a considerable  number  of 
self-possessed  soldiers  outside  waiting  with  lifted  guns  to  shoot  any  one 
whose  head  might  appear  above  the  fence.  I jumped  very  quickly  down 
on  the  inside.  One  hope  yet  remained.  I ran  into  the  building  and  out 
at  the  front  door,  thinking  that  now  the  front  gate  might  not  be  guarded, 
and  that  in  this  least  likely  way  I might  slip  through.  But  it  was  vain; 
a large  number  of  soldiers  were  on  the  ground  and  they  were  being  care- 
fully posted.  I saw  that  the  first  panic  and  all  the  advantages  of  surprise 
were  over.  I ran  back  into  the  jail  to  try  the  back  door  once  more,  but 
a sentinel  was  now  standing  at  it  and  several  soldiers  followed  me  into  the 
building,  I did  not  care  whether  they  fired  or  not,  for  I now  utterly  de- 
spaired. I went  up  the  stairway,  the  guards  not  molesting  me,  and 
looked  out  at  the  chase  which  was  continuing  over  the  adjacent  hills. 

It  was  a wild  and  exciting  spectacle.  Company  after  company  of  sol- 
diers came  up.  The  bells  of  the  city  were  ringing,  and  shots  were  being 
fired  rapidly,  while  loud  commands  and  screams  were  mingled.  I feared 
that  many  of  our  number  were  or  soon  would  be  killed.  Then  I left 
the  window  and  went  to  the  front  room  where  the  prisoners  of  war 
were,  and  to  my  inexpressible  surprise  found  that  they  had  not  gone  out 
of  their  room  at  all  ! They  said  that  there  was  too  much  risk  in  it — that 
it  would  not  be  possible  for  any  one  to  get  off. 

Parrott  and  Reddick  were  captured  inside  the  prison  yard  and  Buffum 
outside.  Bensinger,  who  had  been  so  gallant  in  the  struggle  in  the  jail- 
yard,  had  a fearful  experience  afterward.  After  the  first  race  for  the 
woods  he  was  discovered  by  some  men  with  dogs.  For  some  three  hours 
they  pressed  him  sorely.  He  could  get  out  of  sight  of  the  men,  but  the 
hounds  clung  to  his  trail,  like  bloodhounds  as  they  were  ! When  wearied 
almost  to  death,  he  found  a stream  of  water,  and  by  running  for  a long 
distance  in  that,  was  able  at  last  to  get  away  from  them.  But  he  was  ut- 
terly exhausted  in  this  long  and  critical  chase,  and,  being  alone,  was  in  no 
fit  condition  for  the  terrible  journey  that  lay  before  him. 

The  next  evening  he  went  to  the  negro  quarters  on  a plantation  and 
was  received  by  the  slaves  with  the  sympathy  they  were  always  prepared 
to  extend  to  fugitives.  But  the  planter  also  saw  his  approach,  and^  coming 
unawares  upon  Bensinger,  revolver  in  hand,  forced  his  surrender.  A 
messenger  sent  to  Atlanta  brought  a company  of  cavalry  very  promptly, 
and  we  had  the  melancholy  pleasure  of  welcoming  back  our  comrade. 

Mason  was  brought  in  shortly  after,  and  the  account  stands: — six  recap- 
tured, and  eight  of  our  own  party,  with  two  others — Capt.  Fry  and  the  de- 
serter— escaped.  This  was  a better  result  than  we  had  any  good  right  to 
anticipate,  when  planning  the  attempt. 


A Daring  Escape. 


323 


The  most  lamentable  part  of  the  story  was  the  case  of  Barlow,  a 
young  East  Tennessee  soldier,  who  alone  attempted  to  go  with  us.  He 
g was  only  18,  but  brave  and  very  amiable.  No  harm  came  to  him  in  the 
fight,  but  in  jumping  down  from  the  fence  he  broke  his  leg  just  above 
the  ancle,  and  was  dragged  back  to  his  cell  in  a very  rough  manner.  No 
attention  was  paid  to  him  till  the  next  morning,  and  very  little  then.  He 
died  from  the  injury  after  enduring  great  suffering. 


From  the  window  where  I was  I had  a good  view  of  the  proceedings 
below.  In  a short  time  all  the  force  of  the  place,  including  a regiment  of 
cavalry,  was  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  jail.  I heard  Col.  Lee  directing  the 
pursuit.  He  was  in  a towering  passion,  and  shouted  out  his  orders  in  a 
very  angry  tone.  Said  he,  “ Don’t  take  one  of  the  villains  alive.  Shoot 
them  down  and  let  them  lie  in  the  woods.”  He  ordered  pickets  to  be 
placed  at  the  ferries  of  the  Chattahoochee,  along  the  railroads  and  at  all 
cross  rods.  I was  glad  to  hear  such  arrangements,  for  these  were  the 


324 


Daring  and  Suffer  mg. 


very  places  we  had  promised  to  avoid.  The  following  report*  written  a 
month  afterward,  gives  the  Commander’s  views  of  his  own  success  in  the 
pursuit.  He  is  as  much  mistaken  as  to  outside  sympathy  in  any  effective  f, 
form  as  in  regard  to  the  number  of  killed  and  wounded.  It  is  marvelous, 
considering  all  the  firing,  that  not  one  of  our  party  was  hurt  at  all  ! The 
only  life  lost  was  that  of  poor  Barlow  in  jumping  down  from  the  fence. 

‘^Atlanta,  Ga.,  November  i8,  i86^ 
“Clifton  H.  Smith,  Asst.  Adj.  Gen.,  Charleston,  S.  C. 

“ Sir  : I have  the  honor  to  enclose  the  report  of  prisoners  now  confined  at  this  post,  ^ 
as  requested  in  your  communication  of  the  15th  instant.  I take  leave  respectfully  to  remark 
that  when  I took  charge  of  this  post  I found  the  bridge-burners  and  engine-thieves  confined 
here  in  the  jail  of  the  county,  under  a contract  made  by  General  E.  K.  Smith.  My  force 
being  limited,  I could  not  put  a very  large  force  at  the  jail  building,  but  immediately  placed 
a much  stronger  force  than  had  usually  been  stationed  there.  Notwithstanding,  they  were 
enabled,  as  I have  every  reason  to  believe,  from  outside  influences,  which  I was  unable  to 
counteract  by  the  force  then  at  (my)  control,  to  make  their  escape.  ^ 

“ I found  out  afterwards  that  the  jailer,  contrary  to  my  oft-repeated  orders,  went,  alone 
and  unarmed,  into  the  room  in  which  they  were  confined,  and  being  immediately  overpowered, 

13  of  them  succeeded  in  making  their  escape.  Three  of  these  were,  after  their  escape, 
killed  by  my  guard,  and  one  or  two  wounded.  One  of  them  was  afterward  recovered,  and 
reconfined.  I immediately  made  arrangements  to  have  them  all  removed  to  suitable  barracks, 
and  a much  superior  building  as  regards  strength,  and  in  a more  central  part  of  the  city,  where 
I now  have  them  all  properly  and  strongly  guarded. 

“ There  is  no  blame  attaching  to  the  guard.  The  escape  was  owing  in  part  to  the  < 
fact  that  the  jailer,  as  I above  remarked,  went  in  improperly,  and  I think  in  part  to  the  fact 
that  they  had  sympathizers  outside.  I made  long  and  diligent  search  for  these  prisoners, 
but  from  the  unusual  facilities  afforded  and  the  great  number  of  sympathizers,  I was  una- 
ble to  recapture  them  all.  There  were  no  papers  turned  over  to  me  by  my  predecessors, 
with  the  exception  of  the  proceedings  of  a general  court-martial  which  sat  at  Chattanooga, 
which  papers  were  all  forwarded  to  the  Secretary  of  War  by  his  own  orders,  said  papers 
referring  to  those  who  were  executed.  ^ 

“ I am.  General,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

“G.  W.  Lee, 

“Commanding  Post  and  Provost-Marshal.” 

“ P.S. — I will  simply  add  that  the  facts  above  stated  were  duly  reported  through  Major 
General  Jones  to  the  War  Department.” 

All  night  long  the  guard  talked  over  their  adventures.  There  was  a ^ 
hammock  belonging  to  one  of  the  prisoners  in  the  front  room,  and  this 
he  kindly  permitted  me  to  occupy.  It  was  suspended  right  before  the 
window,  and  I could  hear  and  see  much  that  was  going  on.  The  guards 
had  their  reserve  around  a camp-fire  close  by,  and  I could  hear  their  dis- 
cussion of  their  parts  in  the  affray.  Generally  they  lauded  their  own 
bravery  to  the  skies,  telling  how  they  had  served  the  prisoners  who  had 
broken  out  upon  them.  Occasionally,  one  who  had  not  been  present  ♦ 


* War  Reports,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  p.  639. 


325 


A Daring  Escape, 

then,  would  suggest  that  it  did  not  show  a great  deal  of  bravery  to  let 
unarmed  men  snatch  their  guns  from  them,  but  such  hinted  slanders  were 

* always  received  with  the  contempt  they  deserved  and  the  work  of  self- 
praise  went  on.  One  wondered  at  the  speed  of  the  Yankees  who  had  been 
kept  in  prison  so  long.  Another  of  a philosophical  turn  of  mind  ac- 
counted for  it  by  saying  that  they  had  received  so  much  practice  in  run- 
ning away  in  all  the  battles  they  had  fought,  that  it  was  no  wonder  they 
were  fleet  of  foot  !*  ^This  sally  received  prodigious  applause  ! 

» This  was  a doleful  night.  As  I heard  one  after  another  of  the  guards 
tell  how  he  had  shot  one  of  the  prisoners,  how  another  had  been  wounded 
and  had  no  doubt  crawled  off  somewhere  to  die,  and  speak  of  the  great 
preparation  for  the  search,  it  did  seem  very  doubtful  whether  any  would 
survive.  And  my  own  prospect  was  very  disheartening. 

“ Sadly  I thought  of  the  morrow.” 

The  guards  were  not  slow  in  saying  that  the  two  or  three  who  had  been 
captured  would  be  hanged  at  once.  I knew  that  they  did  not  have  any 
more  real  knowledge  on  the  subject  than  I had;  but  confident  opinions 
are  not  without  their  weight.  And  n this  case  my  own  opinion  was  to 
the  same  effect.  The  startling  news  which  had  precipitated  our  desperate 
venture  was  vividly  recalled.  There  was  no  reason  that  the  feeble  rem- 
nant of  our  band  should  not  now  receive  the  full  punishment  intended, 

♦ and  it  was  to  the  last  degree  unlikely  that  opportunity  for  other  escapes 
would  be  afforded.  The  death  which  for  six  months  had  stared  us  in  the 
face,  and  which  had  been  so  strangely  averted  up  to  this  time,  would  not 
be  much  longer  delayed.  And  such  a death  ! It  was  inconceivably  hor- 
rible as  looked  at  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  when  the  other  prisoners,  who 
did  not  share  my  danger,  had  sunk  to  rest, — for  they  were  only  “ prison- 

I ers  of  war  !”  There  was  no  vision  of  glory  now  to  hide  the  monster  death 
from  view  or  wreathe  him  in  flowers.  There  were  no  eyes  of  friends  to 
behold  the  last  struggle,  and  sure  to  give  sympathy  if  nothing  more — 
only  ignominy  and  darkness,  beyond  which  no  loving  thought  might  ever 
pierce  ! But  the  chill  horror  of  the  scaffold  and  the  thought  of  the  heart- 
less jeering  crowd  rose  before  me  only  for  a moment,  when  a thrill  of 
sweetness  and  a strange  tender  joy  came  to  my  heart.  I remembered  that 
I had  a Friend  who  knew  all  about  it;  that  I was  not  alone,  but  had  given 
myself  for  life  or  death  to  one  who  never  forsakes.  Almost  for  the  first 
time,  some  of  the  deep  emotional  experiences  of  religion  became  mine. 
I knew  that  I was  not  as  I had  been  on  other  occasions  when  the 
thought  of  death  had  been  brought  before  me.  If  I had  to  walk  through 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I would  not  be  alone.  I looked  out 
into  the  clear  night  and  up  at  the  stars,  and  their  beauty  seemed  warm 
and  loving.  I knew  I had  a home  and  a life  which  no  malice  of  the  en- 
emy on  the  morrow  could  deprive  me  of. 


326 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


The  next  morning  the  jailer  put  me  back  in  the  room  I had  occupied 
with  the  remainder  of  my  comrades.  I was  much  amused  when  he  told 
me  that  a man  had  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  nearly  smothered 
him,  but  he  added  with  great  seeming  satisfaction,  “I  bit  his  finger  ter- 
ribly, and  gave  the  rascal  a mark  he  will  carry  to  his  grave.”  However, 
he  had  not  bitten  as  severely  as  he  supposed,  as  I had  received  only  a 
slight  scratch  that  healed  in  a week  or  two.  I had  always  been  rather  a 
favorite  with  him,  and  he  had  no  suspicion  that  I was*  the  guilty  person, 
as  his  fright  had  prevented  him  from  observing  anything  closely.  He 
spoke  in  strong  complaint  of  the  ingratitude  of  our  companions,  saying 
that  he  had  been  kind  to  them,  and  this  was  the  return  he  got  for  it. 
While  we  remained  with  him  he  watched  more  closely,  though  he  sup- 
posed he  was  flattering  us  by  saying  that  he  had  no  doubt  the  men  who 
had  gone  off  were  much  worse  than  we. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


IN  CAVE  AND  MOUNTAIN. 

• 

SOME  time  in  the  forenoon  several  officers  came  to  see  us  in  no  mild 
humor,  and  one  roughly  demanded  the  course  our  boys  intended 
to  travel.  I had  no  delicacy  whatever  about  giving  the  information; 
I even  took  a good  deal  of  pleasure  in  telling  him  that  they  had  said  that 
Atlanta  was  in  the  middle  of  what  was  left  of  the  Confederacy,  and  that 
they  were  going  to  travel  toward  the  outside  ! The  officer  was  so  well 
satisfied  with  this  information  that  he  asked  no  more  questions  ! 

But  it  was  a herculean  task  upon  which  our  brave  boys  had  entered, 
and  my  statement  to  the  Marshal  was  literally  correct,  though  it  could  be 
of  little  use  to  him.  I cannot  look  back  upon  what  they  did  without  think- 
ing  that  in  dangers  encountered  and  obstacles  overcome,  the  proudest  ex- 
ploits of  Livingstone  or  Stanley  were  not  superior.  The  following  sketches 
^ show  a vast  advance  on  their  part  in  skill  as  travellers,  when  compared 
with  the  attempted  escapes  six  months  before.  Then,  all  sooner  or  later 
failed.  Our  long  discussions  and  planning  had  borne  good  fruit. 

A whole  volume  would  be  required  for  the  adventures  in  detail  of  these 
different  parties,  but  some  brief  account  seems  needful  for  the  complete- 
ness of  our  story.  The  different  narratives  have  been  furnished  me  for 
ipublication  by  the  parties  themselves,  or  are  condensed  and  revised  from 
accounts  published  by  them,  some  very  near  the  time  of  the  return  of  the 
fugitives.  The  story  in  each  case  was  of  such  extraordinary  character  that 
local  newspapers  were  glad  of  the  privilege  of  laying  it  before  their  readers. 
These  different  accounts  have  been  carefully  compared,  and  any  para- 
graphs which  have  only  passing  or  local  interest  have  been  omitted. 

The  first  story  is  that  of  our  engineers,  and  is  furnished  by  Knight,  with 
a few  additional  items  by  his  companion.  Brown.  They  were  the  fore- 
most of  the  whole  party  in  the  run  for  the  woods,  as  they  had  been  in  at- 
tacking the  guard.  Knight  says: 

“ We  started  for  the  woods  that  were  about  a mile  distant.  We  ran  through  gardens 
or  anything  else  that  came  in  the  way,  kicking  the  pickets  off  several  garden  fences  as  the 
easiest  way  to  get  over  them.  To  say  that  we  were  tired  out  when  we  reached  the  woods 
* does  not  half  express  our  condition.  The  woods  was  but  narrow,  and  we  only  stopped 
there  long  enough  to  catch  our  wind,  and  then  pressed  on  again.  Mason,  Dorsey  and 


328 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Hawkins  were  now  with  us.  We  next  entered  a big  field,  in  the  middle  of  which  was  a 
deep  ravine  with  brush  grown  up  in  it.  Here  we  rested  and  took  our  bearings,  and  then 
travelled  on.  Mason  now  began  to  get  sick,  but  we  worked  him  along  till  dark  ; then 
through  the  night  we  moved  along  slowly,  secreting  ourselves  a good  share  of  the  time.  f 
During  the  day  we  hid,  but  some  men  caused  us  to  change  our  position  once  or 
twice  to  avoid  them.  The  second  night  we  also  made  but  little  progress  on  account  of 
Mason’s  sickness,  and  after  hiding  all  day  again,  we  still  found  him  no  better.  We  held 
a consultation,  Mason  urging  us  to  leave  him  to  his  fate  and  save  ourselves.  But  we  de- 
cided not  to  leave  him  in  the  woods,  at  any  rate.” 

(The  fidelity  with  which  one  member  of  the  party  would  stick  to  anoth- 
er under  the  most  perilous  circumstances  finds  many  illustrations.  But  t 
it  was  not  necessary  that  Dorsey  and  Hawkins  as  well  as  the  other  two 

should  share  the  fate  of  Mason, 
Besides,  it  had  been  resolved  to 
travel  in  couples,  and  this  party 
was  too  large.) 

“We  selected  a house  that  was  on  ^ 
a little  cross-road  between  two  main 
roads  about  a mile  apart,  and  with  woods 
near.  So  Brown  and  I went  to  the  house 
and  asked  for  lodging,  telling  the  man 
that  one  of  our  number  was  sick.  He 
did  not  wish  to  keep  us,  but  we  told  him 
that  we  were  going  to  stay,  as  we  could 
go  no  further.  We  thought  it  best  to  *• 
tell  him  that  we  had  broke  jail  in  Atlanta, 
and  were  part  of  the  so-called  ‘ engine- 
thieves.’  This  made  him  still  less  will- 
ing to  keep  us,  as  he  said  that  he  was 
already  suspected  for  being  a Union 
man.  But  as  we  insisted,  and  told  him 
that  he  might  inform  any  one  who  called  t 
of  our  character,  he  yielded  and  gave  us 
our  supper.  Mason  was  put  to  bed,  and 
we  staid  up  with  him  part  of  the  night,  and  then  went  to  bed  ourselves  and  had  a good 
sleep.  We  had  not  yet  determined  what  to  do,  but  we  ate  our  breakfast  in  a back  kitchen 
and  then  went  into  the  large  house  to  get  our  hats,  which  had  been  left  there.  Just  then 
three  men  walked  in.  They  talked  a little  time  about  the  weather  and  the  war,  and  we 
began  to  edge  toward  the  door.  They  asked  us  if  we  had  not  broken  jail  in  Atlanta?  We 
told  them  that  we  had.”  (Was  this  strange  candor  desperation  ? or  was  it  because  there  ^ 
were  only  three  questioners?)  “ Then  they  advised  us  to  surrender,  saying  that  the  fer- 
ries and  roads  were  all  guarded,  and  that  part  of  our  comrades  had  been  shot  down  in  the 
woods,  and  that  they  had  come  to  take  us.  Brown  said  : ‘ No,  we  wonT  ; now  you  see  if 
we  do.’  We  jumped  out  of  the  back  door,  and  made  for  the  neighboring  wood,  jumping 
the  fence  and  running  like  two  deer  ; they  ran  out  at  the  front  door  and  round  the  end  of 
the  house,  calling,  ‘ Halt,  halt,’  but  we  did  not  halt.  We  had  no  choice  but  to  abandon 
Mason,  who  was  taken  back  to  Atlanta  the  same  day.  We  undertook  to  cut  across  the 
road  to  get  in  behind  them,  as  we  feared  to  cross  the  open  plantation  ; but  we  failed  and 
had  to  take  the  risk.  The  old  fellow  with  whom  we  had  stayed  turned  his  hounds  loose 


In  Cave  and  Mountain. 


329 


and  put  them  on  our  trail.  We  had  a big  hill  to  go  down  and  then  one  to  go  up  before  we 
could  reach  the  woods.  We  put  in  our  best  licks,  and  could  hear  the  hounds  coming 
their  best.  We  got  down  the  hill  and  across  the  flat,  and  were  climbing  the  hill,  when  we 
saw  that  the  hounds  were  about  to  overtake  us.  and  we  prepared  for  battle  by  stopping  in 
a stony  place  and  getting  a pile  of  rocks  ready.  We  waited  for  them  to  come  close  up, 
and  took  them  at  short  range.  We  rolled  them  down  the  hill  ; and  then,  as  the  Southern- 
ers used  to  say  after  a battle,  ‘ We  won  the  victory,  but  we  evacuated  the  ground  for  b}^ 


this  time  we  could  see  our  three 
callers  coming  around  tlie  road 
near  by,  on  horseback,  to  get 
ahead  of  us.  We  got  to  the  woods 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  when  we 
were  out  of  sight,  changed  our 
course  so  as  to  get  away  from  the 
horsemen.  They  got  part  of  their 
hounds  rallied  so  that  they  would 
follow  along  and  howl  on  our 
track,  but  they  could  not  be  made 
to  close  up  on  us  any  more.  After 
a while  we  would  see  those  horse- 
men heading  us  off  again,  and 
then  we  would  cut  in  another  direction,  and  the  hounds  would  give  them  our  course  again. 
About  noon  we  came  to  a small  stream  of  water.  We  plunged  into  that,  and  would  stoop 
down  and  take  up  our  hands  full  of  water,  and  drink  as  we  ran.  We  kept  in  the  bed  of  that 
stream  for  a couple  of  hours,  and  then  the  hounds  lost  track  of  us.  Soon  after  we  reached 
Stone  Mountain,  about  eighteen  miles  east  of  Atlanta,  and  went  on  the  north  side  of  it 
and  concealed  ourselves  in  the  grass  till  dark,  when  we  picked  out  the  North  Star  and 
travelled  by  it. 

“For  twenty  days  we  travelled  by  night  and  hid  by  day.  Each  day,  for  several  days, 


330 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


we  could  see  them  after  us,  sometimes  with  dogs.  For  six  days  after  we  left  Mason  we  were 
without  a bite  to  eat  save  what  the  woods  furnished,  such  as  nuts,  bark,  buds,  &c.  On 
the  seventh  day  we  were  going  along  a little  stream  that  had  willows  on  both  sides,  and 
which  ran  through  a field  we  wished  to  cross,  as  there  were  mountains  on  the  other  side, 
and  we  thought  we  could  get  on  their  slope  and  be  travelling  in  the  day-time.  We  had 
great  good  fortune  here,  for  we  found  two  ears  of  corn  on  the  bank  and  a flock  of  geese  in 
the  creek,  one  of  which  we  captured  by  means  of  the  corn,  and  then  getting  into  the  moun- 
tains, we  commenced  to  pick  our  goose.  If  anybody  ever  picked  a goose  without  scalding, 
they  know  what  a kind  of  job  we  had  ! When  we  got  tired,  we  took  each  a leg  and  pulled 
it  in  two  ! then  we  went  along  eating  our  raw  goose,  taking  first  a bite  of  it,  then  of  corn. 
That  goose  lasted  several  days  ! 

“On  the  tenth  day  we  reached  the  Chattahoochee  River.  There  was  a rail  fence 
alongside  of  the  woods,  and  we  took  two  large  rails,  crossed  them  near  one  end,  lashed 
them  fast  with  bark,  and  putting  our  clothes  on  the  highest  end,  we  floated  at  the 
other  till  we  got  across.  We  took  a good  sleep  in  the  thick  cane -break  on  the  other 
side. 

“ The  next  thing  of  importance  to  us  was  an  orchard  from  which  all  the  good  apples 
had  been  picked  ; but  we  ate  and  carried  away  as  many  of  the  poor  sour  ones  as  we  could. 
We  also  got  some  strippings  of  tobacco  that  had  been  left  in  a field  alongside. 

“ The  same  evening  we  came  to  a drove  of  small  pigs  and  began  to  figure  for  one. 
Finally  I stood  behind  a tree  with  a club  ; Brown  bit  off  little  pieces  of  apple  and  pitched 
to  the  pigs  ; and  soon  one  little  fellow  commenced  to  pick  up  the  pieces  ; then  Brown 
kept  working  backward  till  he  passed  the  tree  where  I stood,  and  when  the  pig  followed 
up  I shot  him  with  my  stick  ! Previous  to  this  we  found  an  iron  strap  that  had  fastened 
a shovel  to  its  handle,  and  one  part  of  it  had  been  worn  thin.  This  we  rubbed  up  a little 
on  a stone  and  it  made  a very  good  butcher  knife.  We  split  the  pig,  and  with  each  a half, 
ran  up  the  side  of  the  mountain,  and  waited  till  dark  for  a wonderful  feast  ! We  could 
see  over  the  farm  where  there  was  a fire  burning  out  in  a back  field,  and  we  went  there 
and  roasted  the  pig  most  of  the  night.  Then  we  had  one  of  those  feasts  you  read  about ! 
That  pig  lasted  us  till  we  struck  the  Hiawassee  River  in  the  corner  of  North  Carolina. 
Here  we  had  thought  we  could  run  a boat  down  by  night  and  hide  in  the  day-time.  But 
when  we  saw  the  river  we  changed  our  mind,  for  it  was  a swift  stream,  full  of  great  rocks, 
where  we  could  not  have  run  a canoe  by  daylight.  But  we  tried  to  cross  and  each  picked 
out  a rock  that  we  intended  to  reach.  I plunged  in  and  missed  my  rock,  as  the  current 
swept  my  feet  away  while  I tried  to  put  my  hands  on  it.  I looked  to  see  what  had  be- 
come of  Brown  after  I had  got;  on  a flat  stone  much  further  down  the  river  than  I intended. 
He  was  sitting  on  a stone  laughing  at  me,  though  I did  not  see  where  the  laugh  came  in. 
He  asked  me  to  wait  and  see  if  he  could  get  that  far  down  ! He  started,  and  landed  far 
below  me,  and  did  not  feel  so  much  like  laughing  ! 

“ But  the  tug  of  war  came  when  we  were  on  the  other  side,  for  now  we  had  to  cross 
the  mountains  which  we  had  been  travelling  lengthwise  before — mountains  ‘ it  took  two 
men  and  a boy  to  see  to  the  top  of.!’  It  was  so  rough  that  we  were  four  days  going  eight 
miles. 

“ In  a deep  mountain  valley  beside  a river  we  met  two  men  armed  to  the  teeth.  We 
all  stopped  as  if  we  had  been  shot,  but  quickly  moved  on  again.  We  simply  spoke  when 
we  met,  and  all  seemed  glad  to  get  by  without  anything  more  to  do  with  each  other. 
Soon  we  came  to  a small  log  cabin,  the  door  of  which  was  fast.  We  waited  a long  time 
to  see  if  anybody  came,  and  as  none  did,  we  concluded  to  investigate  it.  Brown  stood 
guard,  and  I climbed  down  the  wide  outside  chimney,  and  found  nothing  inside  but  two 
ears  of  corn.  I went  up  the  ladder  and  there  was  a bed  all  made  up  ready  for  a person  to 
get  in.  I turned  down  the  covers  and  found  a rifle  and  all  the  furniture  but  powder:  and 


In  Cave  and  Mountain. 


331 


as  there  was  none  of  that  I did  not  care  to  take  it.  But  I carried  the  two  ears  of  corn  out 
of  the  chimney  with  me.  There  was  fire  in  some  of  the  stumps  on  the  mountains  and  we 
roasted  the  corn,  and  that  was  our  supper.  We  went  down  the  river  a little  further  and 
^ camped  for  the  night. 

“ The  next  morning  we  continued  down  the  river,  making  good  progress,  for  now  the 
trail  was  better  ; when  suddenly,  around  a sharp  bend,  we  came  to  quite  a large  house 
with  two'men  sitting  on  the  porch.  We  concluded  to  go  up  to  them  and  ask  how  far  it 
was  to  Cleveland,  and  maybe  we  could  get  something  to  eat.  When  we  hailed  and  asked, 


Brown  and  Knight  Capturing  a Pig. 

one  of  the  men  came  down  to  us,  and  told  us  it  was  sixty  miles.  Then  we  asked  for  some 
dinner,  telling  him  that  we  were  sick  soldiers.  Pie  said  we  could  have  some  dinner,  but 
for  his  part  he  was  opposed  to  the  war.  We  were,  too  ! 

“ We  got  some  water  and  some  soap,  which  improved  our  appearance  a good  deal, 
and  finally  dinner  was  ready.  There  were  two  ladies,  one  old  and  the  other  young  The 
old  lady  was  one  of  the  kind  that  do  a good  deal  of  thinking  and  say  just  what  they  think. 
After  we  were  down  at  the  table,  she  said  she  wished  the  Yankees  would  get  there,  so 
♦ that  they  could  get  some  Lincoln  coffee.  Then  I said  that  I wished  so,  too.  Then  she 
accused  us  directly  of  being  Yankees  ourselves,  and  as  we  concluded  that  those  two  men 
could  not  arrest  us,  anyway,  we  said  that  we  were  Union  soldiers,  and  belonged  to  the 


332 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


party  called  ‘ engine-thieves.’  They  had  all  heard  of  that  raid,  and  now  made  us  welcome 
indeed  ! They  invited  us  to  stay  a week  and  rest  up.  We  were  willing,  if  we  could  be 
secreted  somewhere.  They  told  us  that  they  could  hide  us  where  the  ‘ First  Great  Rebel  ’ ^ 

could  not  find  us.  I told  them  that  was  just  where  I wanted  to  go! 

“ We  had  a good  time,  being  kept  in  the  back  room  during  the  afternoon.  They 
put  a large  dog  out  on  picket,  and  we  told  them  army  stories  and  sung  songs  till  dark. 
Finally  the  dog  barked,  and  then  stopped.  They  told  us  not  to  be  uneasy,  as  the  dog’s 
master  was  coming.  They  told  him  whom  they  had  in  the  back  room,  and  he  came  in 
and  took  us  by  the  hands,  and  laughed  and  cried,  and  told  us  some  hard  tales  about  his 
being  imprisoned  because  he  was  for  the  Union. 

“ It  was  now  settled  that  we  should  stay  for  a few  days.  A large  basket  of  grub  was  \ 


The  F ugitives  Entering  a Cave. 


prepared,  and  their  boy,  pretending  to  be  going  coon-hunting,  made  ready  a large  torch. 

We  were  to  follow  a short  distance  behind,  with  quilts  and  provisions.  We  first  went  ^ 
down  the  river,  and  then  turned  up  the  mountain  and  went  up,  up,  till  I thought  we 
would  never  get  to  the  top.  We  turned  into  another  ravine,  and  again  went  up,  up,  till 
we  came  to  a solid  wall  across  our  ravine.  It  looked  as  if  the  top  of  the  mountain  had 
slid  down  and  barred  the  passage.  Our  guide  turned  a little  to  the  left,  and  among  the 
bushes  he  got  down  and  showed  us  a hole  big  enough  to  crawl  in.  He  entered  with  his 
torch  and  we  followed.  There  was  a good-sized  room  in  the  cave,  and  he  said  we  could 
have  all  the  fire  we  wanted,  and  hallo  as  loud  as  we  pleased  without  danger.  It  did  look 
as  if  the  Evil  One  would  have  quite  a task  to  find  us  here.  Then  he  gave  us  countersigns  ♦ 

and  promised  to  come  again,  and  left  us  to  enjoy  our  good  fortune  alone.  We  began 
to  eat  the  provisions  brought  along,  and  continued  till  it  was  nearly  gone.  We  would  cat 


In  Cave  and  Mountain, 


333 


and  lie  down,  but  get  hungry  again  before  going  to  sleep,  and  eat  some  more.  Finally 
we  quit  lest  our  friend  should  not  come  back  in  time  ; but  he  did,  and  brought  plenty  of 
food  with  him. 

^ “For  five  days  we  were  fed  and  rested  in  this  safe  retreat  ; then  our  kind  friend  took 
us  down  again  to  the  river  and  gave  us  a guide  whom  we  followed  over  the  mountains. 
After  a long  time  I noticed  a light  in  the  woods  and  that  he  was  making  for  it.  There 
we  found  an  old  house  standing  alone,  and  surrounded  by  the  forests.  When  we  got  to 
the  door,  my  guide  opened  it,  and  to  my  surprise  it  was  full  of  men.  They  told  us  to  come 
in,  for  we  were  among  friends.  We  had  a good  hand-shake  all  around,  and  then  one  old 
man  asked  us  if  we  had  any  money.  We  told  him  we  had  not.  He  said  that  our  looks 
^ showed  that  we  had  no  clothes,  and  turning  to  the  company,  he  said,  ‘ We  must  get  them 
clothes  and  money,  for  men  cannot  travel  without  them.’  We  were  taken  to  a barn  and 
kept  till  the  next  night,  and  were  then  given  a suit  of  clothes,  (this  was  the  first  they 
had  received  since  leaving  the  Union  army,)  and  ten  dollars  each,  and  a guide  who  was 
to  receive  thirty  dollars  for  taking  us  three  nights’  journey. 

“ This  placed  us  across  the  Tennessee  river,  when  we  were  sent  with  instructions  from 
one  house  to  another. 

“ This  was  comparatively  easy  travelling,  and  we  passed  rapidly  and  safely  on  till  we 
•reached  our  own  lines.  We  had  spent  forty-seven  days  and  nights,  passing  over  some  of 
the  roughest  country  that  ever  laid  out  of  doors  ! ” 

The  rough  and  simple  language  of  this  sketch  covers  a truly  heroic 
achievement.  The  devotion  to  their  sick  comrade,  who  was,  in  spite  of  all, 
returned  to  us  in  prison,  and  gave  an  account  of  their  adventures  that 
far,  led  to  their  singular  battle  with  the  hounds  and  the  still  more  terrible 
^race  in  which  they  escaped  from  horsemen  and  dogs.  The  journey 
through  North-eastern  Georgia  was  exceedingly  difficult,  especially  for 
night  travel;  and  when  they  reached  the  Hiawassee  it  was  too  high  up  in 
the  mountains  for  navigation.  In  this  they  differed  from  Dorsey  and 
Hawkins,  who  began  with  them,  followed  the  same  general  course,  but 
kept  a little  more  to  the  west.  The  difficulties  still  before  them  were  for- 
•midable,  and  with  winter  coming  on,  and  the  days  growing  continually 
colder,  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  it  would  have  been  possible  for 
them  to  get  through  at  all  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  romantic  incident  of 
the  cave,  and  the  help  given  by  the  loyal  mountaineers.  It  is  hard  to 
speak  in  too  high  terms  of  the  generosity  of  these  people,  whose  devotion 
to  the  Union  was  a passion,  and  who  were  always  ready,  though  at  the  risk 
^of  their  own  lives,  to  give  help  to  all  Union  men  or  soldiers.  If  these 
Southern  Union  men  had  been  trusted  sooner  by  this  and  other  parties 
much  suffering  would  have  been  avoided.  It  is  curious  to  notice  how 
the  several  parties  had  their  peculiarities;  Knight  and  Brown  had  this 
experience  with  the  Unionists;  Wood  and  Wilson  excelled  in  river  travel, 
and  in  taking  an  unexpected  route;  Dorsey  and  Hawkins  in  using  the 
friendship  of  negroes;  Porter  and  Wollam  combined  the  experiences  of 
• nearly  all  the  others. 


X 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

THE  LOYAL  MOUNTAINEERS.  ^ 

Like  others^  Dorsey  and  Hawkins  had  an  exceedingly  hard  race  to 
gain  the  woods.  The  subsequent  story  is  told  very  clearly  and 
vividly  by  the  former.  He  says  : 

‘ ‘ Passing  a little  way  into  the  woods,  I found  Brown  and  Knight  leaning  against  a 
tree,  gasping  for  breath.  I leaned  against  the  same  tree.  None  of  us  could  speak.  L 

thought  for  a moment  or  two  that  each 
breath  would  be  my  last.  As  we  recovered 
a little,  one  gasped,  ‘ Guess  we’d  better 
go,  boys.’  On  we  went,  but  not  so  fast 
as  before,  for  none  of  our  pursuers  were 
now  in  sight.  We  were  soon  joined  by 
Hawkins,  Mason,  and  the  escaped  desert-  ^ 
er,  so  that  we  were  six  in  all.  We  lay  in 
an  open  field  that  night,  judging  it  to  be 
safer  than  the  woods,  and  huddled  to- 
gether as  a partial  protection  from  the 
cold.  All  night  long  we  heard  the  bay- 
ing of  the  hounds  and  the  frequent  dis- 
charge of  fire-arms.  The  distance  from 
which  these  sounds  came  indicated  that* 
the  pursuers  were  beyond  us,  and  that  our 
best  chance  was  in  hiding  and  allowing 
them  to  pass  still  farther  ahead.  The 
next  day  we  were  fortunate  enough  to 
discover  some  luscious  wild  grapes,  which 
■we  devoured  with  the  greatest  relish. 
Our  mouths  afterwards  were  very  sore,  ^ 
and  the  grapes  may  possibly  have  been 
the  cause  of  the  injury.  The  same  day  we  were  surprised  by  some  citizens  with  shot- 
guns, but  outran  them  and  escaped. 

“ Brown,  Mason,  and  Knight  left  us,  the  latter  being  sick.  The  deserter  continued 
with  us  a day  longer.  He  then  wished  to  visit  a house  for  food,  but  we,  though  very 
hungry,  did  not  think  it  advisable,  and  parted  with  all  good  wishes.  I have  heard  that  he 
got  safely  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  but,  returning  to  his  home  in  Northern  Georgia,  was 
arrested  and  executed  as  a deserter  from  the  Confederate  army,  into  which  he  had  been  » 
conscripted  at  first. 

“On  the  fourth  day  out  we  met  two  of  our  pursuers,  who  were  apparently  coming 


D,  A.  Dorsey.  From  a war-time  photograph. 


The  Loyal  Mountaineers. 


335 


back  discouraged,  but  easily  eluded  them  by  hiding  under  some  bushes.  We  now  began 
to  travel  more  rapidly,  hiding  by  day  and  continuing  on  our  way  by  night,  directed  by 
the  stars,  which  Hawkins  understood  very  well. 

* “ On  the  eighth  day  out  we  came  to  the  ferry  of  the  Chattahoochee  River,  far  to  the 
northeast  of  Atlanta.  We  took  rails  from  a neighboring  fence,  and  began  to  build  a raft, 
when  we  observed  a lighted  torch  approaching  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  When  it 
came  nearer  we  saw  that  the  party  accompanying  it  were  negroes,  two  in  number,  with 
four  dogs.  Hawkins,  who  had  spent  some  years  in  the  South,  and  understood  the  dis- 
position of  the  negroes,  felt  disposed  to  trust  them.  . A'ctordingly,  we  asked  them  to  ferry 
us  over,  which  they  readily  did,  we  giving  them  a little  tobacco  we  had,  and  which  we 

^ could  not  use  because  of  our  sore  mouths.  They  professed  themselves  Unionists,  and  we 
told  them  that  we  were  Union  soldiers.  The  fact  of  belonging  to  the  railroad  party  we 
did  not  disclose  until  we  were  within  the  Union  lines.  One  went  for  provisions,  while 
the  other  remained  with  us,  as  if  to  allay  any  suspicions  we  might  entertain.  They  told 
us  that  we  were  forty-eight  miles  northeast  of  Atlanta,  in  the  region  of  deserted  gold-mines, 
and  proposed  to  hide  us  in  one  of  those  mines,  supply  us  with  quilts  and  provisions  until 
we  were  well  rested,  and  then  direct  us  on  our  northward  way.  It  would  probably  have 
been  better  to  have  accepted  their  kind  offer,  which  I think  Hawkins  wished  to  do,  but  I 
•had  some  fear  ; so  we  declined. 

“ The  one  who  had  gone  for  provisions  returned  with  a goodly  supply  of  boiled  pork 
and  beans,  mashed  Irish  potatoes,  sweet  potatoes  and  corn-bread.  What  a feast  ! It 
was  the  first  food  worthy  the  name  we  had  eaten  for  six  long  months  ! We  did  it  ample 
justice,  and  what  was  left  carried  away  with  us.  Our  African  friends  also  gave  us  a piece 
of  a broken  butcher-knife,  that  was  of  great  service.  They  also  gave  us  invaluable  direc- 
tions, telling  us  where  the  rebel  troops  lay,  and  where  we  could  find  a colored  slave,  who 
^ would  ferry  us  over  the  Hiwassee  (which  runs  down  from  North  Carolina  into  the  Ten- 
nessee), as  they  had  done  over  the  Chattahoochee.  We  assured  them  that  they  would  soon 
be  free,  and  parted  with  a mutual  ‘ God  bless  you  !’ 

With  thankful  hearts  we  pressed  on,  made  a good  night’s  journey,  and  then  laid  by 
until  evening  of  the  next  day.  Seeing  a house  on  the  edge  cf  the  woods,  we  watched  it 
until  assured  that  only  an  old  man  and  woman  were  there,  when  we  went  boldly  up  to  it 
and  asked  for  supper,  which  was  given  with  some  reluctance. 

“ Early  in  the  evening  journey  we  came  to  a small  stream,  and  attempting  to  cross  on 
» a fallen  tree,  I fell  into  the  water,  and  was  thoroughly  soaked.  From  this  cause  I suf- 
fered greatly  with  cold.  Some  hours  after  we  came  to  a barn,  the  mows  of  which  were 
filled  with  corn-blades.  We  were  glad  to  bury  ourselves  out  of  sight  in  the  fodder,  where 
we  grew  warm,  and  slept  all  day.  It  was  comfortable,  but  we  paid  for  it  by  a terrible 
fright.  Some  cavalrymen  came  into  the  stable  under  the  mows,  and  took  out  their  horses. 
We  could  hear  their  conversation  and  the  jingle  of  their  spurs,  and  scarcely  dared  to 
breathe.  But  they  left  us  in  safety.  We  stayed  a day  longer,  as  the  bed  was  the  best  we 
^ had  found  since  our  first  capture.  But  a negro  boy  came  up  to  hunt  eggs,  and  found  us. 
_He  was  so  frightened  that  we  could  not  pacify  him,  and,  fearing  an  alarm,  we  hastened 
to  the  woods  once  more.  Some  negroes  were  again  met,  starting  on  their  favorite  amuse- 
ment,— an  opossum  hunt.  On  application  they  gave  us  a magnificent  treat, — a hatful  of 
apples,  a half  ‘ pone,’  and  two  or  three  pounds  of  boiled  beef  on  a bone.  This  supply 
lasted  for  several  days. 

“ On  the  night  journey  we  were  much  annoyed  by  the  barking  of  dogs  at  the  houses 
we  passed.  Once  we  were  seen,  but,  pretending  to  be  rebels  on  the  way  to  our  regiments, 

• we  succeeded  so  well  in  lulling  suspicion  that  an  old  man  sent  a message  by  us,  to  his  son, 
who  was  in  the  rebel  army,  and  added  some  corn-bread  for  the  messengers. 

“ I here  became  more  lame  than  ever,  by  reason  of  an  unfortunate  misstep,  and  had  to 


336 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


walk  by  leaning  parr  of  my  weight  upon  my  faithful  comrade.  We  came  to  a wide  river 
we  could  not  cross,  and,  going  back  into  the  fields,  lay  on  the  damp  ground  till  morning.  If 
I ever  tasted  cold,  it  was  then.  Hawkins  became  reckless  from  suffering,  and  was  disposed  to 
go  to  a house,  even  at  the  risk  of  capture.  But  I demurred,  and  we  waited  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  communicate  with  the  ever-faithful  negroes.  We  found  a hut,  and,  watching  it 
some  time,  saw  none  but  a black  woman  there.  She  readily  responded  to  our  appeal  for 
help,  gave  us  a hot  breakfast,  a fire  to  warm  by,  and  some  parched  corn  to  carry  on  our 
journey.  She  also  directed  us  to  a ford.  Thanking  her  from  our  hearts,  we  returned  to 
the  river,  got  over,  and  concealed  ourselves  in  the  woods  on  the  other  side. 

“ With  the  coming  of  night  we  once  more  took  up  our  weary  way.  Towards  morning 
we  saw  a large  encampment  of  whites  and  colored  people.  All  were  asleep  except  one  of 
the  latter.  We  approached,  and,  in  a whisper,  asked  him  who  they  were.  He  told  us  of 
the  retreat  of  Bragg’s  army  from  Kentucky,  and  that  these  were  a band  of  fugitives  com- 
ing South  with  their  slaves  to  avoid  the 
Union  army.  To  us  this  was  a serious 
matter.  A large  army,  with  all  its  bag- 
gage, and  the  country  full  of  pickets, 
directly  in  our  front,  was  a great  addition 
to  our  danger.  The  colored  man  gave^ 
us  all  the  scanty  information  he  possessed 
about  the  position  of  the  army.  Haw- 
kins, spying  a covered  skillet  near  the 
fire,  winked  at  our  friend,  got  an  assent- 
ing nod,  and  reached  for  it.  It  had  two 
baked  sweet  potatoes,  which  we  appro- 
priated, and  departed  as  noiselessly  as 
we  had  advanced.  Twenty-four  hours 
after,  we  had  reached  the  Hiwassee 
River.  We  called  lustily  for  the  ferry- 
man, and,  to  our  exceeding  delight,  were 
answered  by  the  very  slave  our  colored 
friends  on  the  Chattahoochee  had  said 
would  be  willing  to  ferry  us  over. 

“With  his  counsel,  for  we  trusted 

Martin  J.  Hawkins.  From  a war-time  photograph.  h'™  with  the  secret  of  our  being  escaped 

prisoners,  we  resolved  to  go  down  the 
Hiwassee  to  its  junction  with  the  Tennessee.  To  do  this,  however,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  pass  round  the  rebel  camp  at  Charleston,  a few  miles  farther  down  the  river. 
This  was  Friday,  and  by  waiting  until  Saturday,  the  young  man  could  get  a pass  good 
until  Monday,  and  could  pilot  us  around  Charleston.  We  resolved  to  wait.  He  treated 
us  royally, — shared  his  scanty  allowance  of  food  with  us,  for  he  had  only  a slave’s  rations, 
doctored  my  ankle,  kept  us  in  his  best  bed — a feathe?  one — over  night,  though,  for  pru- 
dential reasons,  we  hid  in  the  woods  during  the  day,  and,  on  starting,  gave  us  a bottle  of 
molasses  and  a piece  of  pork.  We  floated  down  near  camp  in  a ‘dug-out’  canoe,  then 
left  the  river  and  surrounded  the  enemy.  Our  pilot  was  obliged  to  leave  us  before  we 
got  back  to  the  river  below  the  town,  but  he  put  us  on  the  banks  of  a small  stream,  which 
we  had  only  to  follow  down  to  its  mouth.  This  we  reached  by  two  P.M.,  and  amused  our- 
selves by  cracking  walnuts  and  hickory-nuts  in  a solitary  place  until  dark,  when  we  hunted 
up  an  old  dilapidated  canoe.  It  was  a miserable  boat,  and  gave  us  enough  to  do  in  bail- 
ing as  well  as  paddling  it.  We  soon  saw  a better  craft,  with  good  paddles,  tied  up,  and, 
as  the  owner  was  not  there,  we  ‘ traded’  without  difficulty. 


The  Loyal  Motintaineers, 


337 


“ The  stars  were  shining  brightly  when  we  again  pushed  off,  and  the  water  was  as 
clear  as  crystal,  though  not  deep.  W e dried  our  wet  clothes,  and  felt  very  much  more 
comfortable.  Save  an  occasional  whisper  between  us  and  the  soft  ripple  of  the  oars, 
silence  was  unbroken.  This  was  the  most  peaceful  and  satisfactory  night’s  travel  we  had 
yet  made. 

“ At  daybreak  we  hid  the  boat  and  nestled  away  in  some  dry  leaves,  and  after  the 
sun  got  high  enough  to  warm  us,  slept  by  turns  till  afternoon.  Then  we  noticed  an  island 
half  a mile  farther  down  the  river,  and,  as  we  had  seen  nobody  the  whole  day,  and  the 
place  appeared  perfectly  solitary,  we  resolved  to  explore  it.  Nothing  was  found,  but  we 
saw  a house  on  the  east  bank,  which  we  watched  until  sundown,  and  seeing  only  women 
about  it,  resolved  to  try  for  supper.  We  got  a good  square  meal,  but  judge  our  dismay 
at  finding  a good  number  of  ladies,  and  soon  after  a few  men  also  at  the  place.  It  was  a 
‘ quilting,’  and  they  were  to  dance  that  evening.  But  we  told  a new  story.  We  had  been 
working  at  a saw-mill  in  the  mountains,  were  now  out  of  employment,  and  were  going  to 
Chattanooga  to  look  for  a job.  They  warned  us  that  we  would  be  arrested  at  Chatta- 
nooga, and  would  have  to  go  to  jail  or  join  the  army.  They  seemed  to  care  nothing  for 
the  war,  and  to  have  no  disposition  to  molest  us.  We  assured  them  that  we  would  be  all 
right  in  Chattanooga,  as  we  were  personally  acquainted  with  General  Leadbetter,  They 
looked  doubtful,  and  in  parting  they  said,  in  a rather  insinuating  manner,  that  they  wished 
us  a safe  journey  to  Chattanooga.  Probably  they  were  Unionists,  but  we  dared  not  risk 
a discovery.  I tried,  unsuccessfully,  to  steal  a quilt,  which  we  greatly  needed.  The 
night  was  overcast,  the  water  was  very  shallow  in  places,  and  some  tree  tops  were  in  the 
way.  We  had  to  get  out,  pull  our  boat  out  of  these  obstructions  and  into  deeper  water, 
and  then,  wet  to  the  skin,  to  re-embark  and  paddle  on. 

About  midnight  we  came  to  what  seemed  to  be  a ferry,  where  the  river  was  deeper 
and  wider  than  it  had  been  before.  Suddenly  two  shots  were  fired  at  us.  We  lay  down 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and,  taking  in  our  paddles,  let  her  float  down  stream,  while  we 
did  not  move  a muscle.  I suppose  it  was  a picket  of  the  enemy,  who,  after  firing  once, 
concluded  that  our  boat  was  only  a floating  log,  and  took  no  further  trouble.  After  get- 
ting, as  we  supposed,  out  of  danger,  we  again  seized  the  paddles,  and  an  hour  of  vigorous 
work  brought  us  to  the  river’s  mouth,  and  out  on  the  broader  Tennessee. 

‘‘We  were  very  reluctant  to  abandon  the  river  navigation,  but  it  was  manifestly  dan- 
gerous to  continue  it  farther,  and  useless  as  well,  unless  we  were  prepared  to  take  the  risk 
of  running  by  Chattanooga.  So  we  rowed  to  the  north  side  of  the  Tennessee,  and  turned 
our  trusty  craft  adrift,  while  we  started  across  the  mountains.  The  first  road  we  crossed 
gave  evidence  of  the  passage  of  a large  body  of  troops,  and  this  warned  us  that  we  were 
probably  in  danger  of  becoming  entangled  in  the  scouts  and  detachments  of  Bragg’s  army, 
now  on  its  retreat  from  Kentucky.  Two  boys  we  found  by  a fire  in  a school-house — they 
had  been  out  ‘ coon'-hunting — confirmed  this  report.  Soon  we  saw  their  camp-fires,  and 
ascending  a mountain,  where  we  supposed  we  would  be  safer  than  in  the  valleys,  waited 
for  morning.  When  it  came,  an  appalling  sight  met  our  view, — a large  division  of 
Bragg’s  army,  with  its  seemingly  endless  baggage-trains,  well  guarded  by  cavalry,  was 
spread  out  beneath  us.  All  day  long  we  watched  their  movements  from  our  eyrie  with 
breathless  anxiety.  We  resolved  at  night  to  turn  to  the  northeast  instead  of  keeping  due 
north,  as  we  had  intended.  Before  we  had  gone  far,  Hawkins  whispered  in  my  ear,  ‘ Dor- 
sey, we  mustn’t  crack  any  corn  to-night.’  Rebel  pickets  and  scouts  were  no  doubt  on 
every  side  of  us.  The  mountain-side  was  steep  and  covered  with  loose  stones,  where 
travelling,  even  by  day,  would  have  been  difficult  ; at  night  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy, 
it  was  terrible  ! We  came  to  a picket,  and  were  only  saved  from  running  right  into  it  by 
the  snuffling  of  a horse.  We  slipped  away  a short  distance  from  the  road,  and  lay  down. 
Soon  a squad  of  cavalry  passed  up  the  road,  and  we  crossed  it  right  behind  them,  anxious 


338 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


to  get  out  of  that  dangerous  neighborhood  while  the  sound  of  their  hoofs  drowned  any 
noise  we  might  make.  We  moved  very  cautiously,  again  ascended  the  mountain-side,  and 
near  daybreak  came  to  a halt  and  went  into  camp, — that  is,  hid  in  the  brush. 

When  the  light  came  we  could  see  the  enemy  no  more,  but  heard  his  wagons  rumb-  ' 
ling  off  in  the  distance.  The  immediate  danger  from  that  source  was  over.  Our  stock  of 
provision,  which  was  only  a little  parched  corn,  was  almost  exhausted  ; and  as  the  moun- 
tain seemed  to  be  uninhabited,  we  resolved  to  move  forward  in  the  afternoon.  We  found 
a negro,  who,  for  a wonder,  could  not  or  would  not  give  any  provisions  or  information. 

Late  in  the  night  we  rested,  tying  some  bushes  together  to  make  a rude  shelter,  and  both 
sleeping,  for  nature  was  almost  overcome.  Food  and  water  were  also  very  low,  but  in 
the  morning  we  pressed  on,  halting  when  our  waning  strength  failed,  and  going  on  when 
strength  allowed. 

“ Very  impressive  were  some  of  the  hours  spent  in  watching  on  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains. One  of  us  would  sleep  in  perfect  trust,  while  the  other  watched  and  thought.  The 
lofty  peaks,  the  wide  landscape,  and  the  rising  and  setting  sun  were  doubly  solemn  in  the 
profound  silence,  and  amid  the  mighty  forests  of  that  region.  I can  never  forget  the 
beauty  of  nature  associated  with  so  much  of  peril. 

“ But  there  were  other  hours  of  very  prosaic  toil.  Once  we  had  to  force  our  way  on 
hands  and  knees  through  a mass  of  briers  a quarter  of  a mile  wide.  Several  times  we  \ 
hunted  persimmons  by  moonlight, — Hawkins  shaking  them  off,  while  I crawled  on  hands 
and  knees  feeling  for  them.  Many  adventures  similar  to  those  already  narrated  were 
encountered.  Near  a ford  of  the  Sequatchie  River  we  found  a quilted  skirt  hanging  out, 
which  we  appropriated,  tore  in  two,  and  making  a hole  in  the  middle  of  each  piece  for 
our  heads,  found  ourselves  possessed  of  passable  undershirts,  which  we  needed  sorely,  as 
it  was  now  colder  than  ever.  The  ford  was  waded  with  our  clothes  taken  off  and  tied  on 
our  heads. 

^‘For  two  days  more  we  travelled  and  rested  alternately  in  the  mountains,  hungry,  ^ 
wet  with  the  rain  that  now  began  to  fall,  and  as  solitary  as  if  we  were  the  only  inhabitants 
of  the  globe.  Near  sundown  of  the  second  day  we  heard  some  wood-choppers  far  below 
us.  We  were  so  weak  that  we  repeatedly  fell  as  we  descended  the  mountain-side.  Hun- 
ger was  so  extreme  that  we  resolved  to  try  for  food  from  them,  using  the  best  story  we 
could  frame.  We  told  them  we  were  Confederate  soldiers,  who  had  been  left  in  a hos- 
pital, from  which  we  had  run  away,  and  were  now  trying  to  get  to  our  regiments ; also 
that  we  were  without  money,  and  wanted  food.  They  refused  to  do  anything  for  us  ; f 
said  that  soldiers  had  already  eaten  them  nearly  out.  This  reception  encouraged  us.  To 
test  them  further  we  talked  of  our  cause,  its  justice,  certainty  of  success,  etc.  They 
did  not  pretend  to  agree  with  us,  and  finally  told  us  that  we  were  in  what  had  been 
called  ‘ Lincoln  District,’  because  only  two  votes  were  cast  there  for  secession.  The  con- 
versation led  them  to  a flat  avowal  that  they  were  Union  men.  We  then  cautiously 
revealed  the  fact  that  we  were  soldiers  on  the  same  side,  and  the  hospitality  which  had 
been  denied  before  was  now  readily  extended. 

“ The  name  of  these  gentlemen  was  Moyer.  Confederate  soldiers  almost  daily  passed 
their  house  and  great  care  was  required  to  avoid  them.  We  were  offered  a bed  that 
night,  but  declined  it,  and  lay  in  front  of  the  open  fire  ‘ upon  our  arms  ' (clubs  or 
canes),  not  even  taking  off  our  shoes,  lest  we  should  be  surprised,  for  we  only  half  trusted 
our  host,  notwithstanding  his  hospitality.  Next  morning  there  was  a snow  of  two  or  three 
inches  on  the  ground.  I believe  we  would  have  perished  if  we  had  laid  out  that  night 
without  food  or  shelter. 

“ The  younger  Moyer,  son  of  the  elder,  piloted  us  after  a good  breakfast  to  another  ^ 
friend  where  we  got  an  excellent  dinner,  making  three  straight  meals  in  succession — the 


The  Loyal  Mountaineers,  339 

first  meals  since  the  breakfast  at  the  Crutchfield  House  in  Chattanooga,  more  than  seven 
months  before. 

After  dinner  we  were  given  a cordial  invitation  to  remain  and  attend  a whipping  that 
was  to  take  place  a few  miles  distant  that  night.  The  war  having  interrupted  the  due 
course  of  law,  stealing  was  usually  punished  by  a flogging.  But  we  had  no  taste  for  such 
a scene.  Declining  the  invitation,  we  were  conducted  by  a new  guide  to  the  home  of 
‘ Red  Fox,’  which  we  reached  after  night. 

‘‘  Mr.  ‘ Red  Fox’  was  not  at  home  when  we  arrived,  but  came  in  during  the  night. 

“ His  father-in-law,  aged  ninety,  was  an  enthusiastic  Union  man,  and  declared  his 
intention  to  use  his  old  rifle  if  the  rebels  ever  bothered  him  or  his  neighbors.  The  old 
gentleman  literally  forced  upon  us  a dollar — the  last  one  he  had. 

“Early  next  morning  ‘Red  P'ox,’  whose  true  name  I knew  at  the  time,  but  have 
since  forgotten,  put  on  his  hunter’s  gear,  took  his  rifle  in  hand,  and  ‘ went  hunting  ; ’ of 
course  we  followed,  and  of  course  we  saw  no  game,  except  a few  thousand  Confederate 
soldiers.  Being  quite  lame,  I was  kept  just  behind  our  faithful  guide,  and  Hawkins 
brought  up  the  rear.  About  noon  we  crossed  a well-travelled  road,  and  a few  rods  further 
on  we  all  hid  behind  a big  log  to  avoid  being  observed  by  any  chance  passer-by,  while 
‘ Red  Fox,’  who  was  at  the  end  of  his  beat,  sketched  out  our  path  and  divided  his  jerked 
venison  with  us.  We  were  about  to  separate,  when  we  were  startled  by  the  approach  of 
a brigade  of  Confederate  infantry,  who  passed  along  the  road  we  had  just  crossed. 

“ To  Hawkins  and  myself  the  tread  of  soldiers  and  the  rattle  of  their  tin  cups,  pans, 
etc.,  was  very  familiar,  but  not  welcome. 

“ After  they  had  got  well  by,  our  friend  bade  us  good-bye.  We  could  only  pay  him 
with  thanks,  with  which  he  was  fully  satisfied.  Few  persons  outside  of  these  districts 
have  any  idea  of  the  services  that  were  rendered  and  the  dangers  encountered  by  those 
noble  mountaineers. 

“ Hawkins  and  I resumed  our  march,  but  unfortunately  lost  our  way.  A negro  on  a 
mountain  farm,  whom  we  met,  was  either  too  ignorant  or  too  mean  to  tell  us  anything — 
a rare  exception  to  their  helpfulness.  That  night  was  spent  in  the  woods.  We  made  a 
bed  in  the  leaves,  tying  the  bushes  together  at  the  top  to  form  a kind  of  protection. 

“ The  next  day’s  travel  resulted  in  but  little  progress,  and  late  at  night  we  came  to  a 
cabin  and  sought  shelter  with  the  ’oachelor  occupant,  who  had  a couple  of  male  friends 
lodging  with  him.  We  vrere  able  to  give  a satisfactory  account  of  ourselves  to  these 
gentlemen,  and  after  breakfast  asked  what  our  bill  was,  and  were  answered,  ‘ one  dollar.’ 
Had  we  been  unable  to  pay  this,  suspicion  would  no  doubt  have  rested  upon  us,  and  our. 
hunt  for  the  North  Star  might  have  been  suddenly  interrupted,  for  there  was  a camp  of 
rebel  guerrillas  not  far  away.  The  dollar  bill  donated  by  the  aged  father  of  ‘ Red  Fox  ’ 
met  the  emergency. 

“ In  addition  to  the  two  men  lodging  with  our  host,  there  was  a young  fellow  proba- 
bly about  eighteen  years  old  who  seemed  to  eye  us  pretty  closely,  and  when  we  departed, 
offered  to  show  us  the  main  road  to  ‘ Jimtown,’  for  which  place  we  had  made  inquiry.  A 
little  way  out  of  the  woods  the  young  man  frankly  told  us  that  he  believed  we  were 
Union  men  trying  to  get  to  the  Federal  lines. 

“ He  also  declared  himself  a Unionist  and  offered  to  aid  us,  told  us  our  host  was  a 
bitter  rebel,  and  that  a force  of  Confederate  guerrillas  were  camped  a few  mik;s  away. 
He  put  us  on  a path  that  led  us  to  a ‘ Squire’s,’  for  whose  house  we  had  started  two  days 
before.  The  Squire  in  turn  directed  us  to  Jimtown,  and  gave  us  the  name  of  a friend 
in  that  place,  upon  whom  we  called  about  bed-time,  and  were  by  him  stowed  away  in  the 
loft  of  his  cabin.  Jimtown  was  a small  mountain  village  composed  of  log  houses. 

“We  were  in  imminent  danger  here  from  guerrillas.  The  fact  of  our  presence  got  to 
the  ears  of  a woman  whose  husband  was  imprisoned  in  the  South  as  a Union  man.  Her 


340 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


rejoicing  that  we  had  escaped,  and  anxiety  to  get  some  account  of  her  husband,  led  her 
to  involuntarily  betray  us,  and  we  had  to  fly  in  charge  of  a pilot  to  safer  quarters,  which 
were  found  before  morning  some  distance  away  in  dense  woods.  Poor  woman,  we  knew 
nothing  of  her  husband. 

“ From  here  we  travelled  without  a guide,  going  by  the  directions  given  from  time  to 
time  as  we  met  friends  to  whom  we  had  been  directed.  Usually  the  route  was  marked 
out  on  a paper,  and  we  travelled  ‘ bridle-paths,’  avoiding  main  roads.  We  frequently 
lost  our  way  and  had  to  travel  by  night,  appealing  to  our  old-time  friend,  the  North  Star, 
for  guidance,  and  managed  to  come  around  to  the  right  place  notwithstanding  we  were 
several  times  lost  between  ‘ stations  ’ for  two  or  three  days.  Just  over  the  Kentucky  line 
we  reached  a friend  who,  after  providing  us  with  a good  supper,  bed,  and  breakfast, 
directed  us  to  another  friend  at  Monticello,  where  we  were  received  in  that  whole-souled, 
hospitable  manner  for  which  the  Kentuckians  are  so  justly  noted.  Our  host  (whose 
name  I believe  was  Phillips)  was  a well-to-do  planter  and  slave-holder.  From  him  we 
learned  of  the  divisions  ani  dissensions  that  had  sprung  up  at  the  North  in  regard  to  the 
prosecution  of  the  war,  the  slavery  question,  etc.  I cannot  express  the  feelings  I had  on 
hearing  of  the  fact  that  the  people  of  the  North  were  thus  divided.  I felt  that  if  they 
knew  the  true  inwardness  of  the  rebellion  as  we  did,  they  would  be  a unit  on  the  question 
of  suppressing  it ; and  I well  remember  that  we  travelled  with  a heavier  heart  than 
before,  as  we  wended  our  way  northward.  Our  kind  host  wanted  to  have  his  negro  shoe- 
maker mend  our  shoes,  which  we  thought  were  past  redemption  ; but  we  were  still  in 
great  danger  of  being  picked  up  by  scouting  parties  of  Confederates,  and  had  not 
deemed  it  prudent  to  trust  implicitly  any  one.  We  feared  to  lose  sight  of  our  shoes  even 
to  have  them  repaired,  and  respectfully  declined. 

“ After  another  good  night’s  rest,  and  a better  breakfast  than  we  had  yet  obtained, 
our  friend  piloted  us  through  the  little  town.  There  was  a camp  of  guerrillas  close  by, 
and  although  our  host  was  a Union  man,  he  made  friends  with  all,  and  kept  any  officers 
or  soldiers  from  either  side  who  might  call  on  him.  He  gave  us  a note  to  his  son-in-law. 
Dr.  McKinney,  at  Somerset,  whose  house  we  reached  the  same  day,  and  by  whom  the 
same  hospitable  reception  was  accorded.  The  doctor  next  day  secured  passage  for  us  on 
some  wagons  that  were  going  to  Lebanon  for  salt,  and  we  found  our  journey  on  foot 
suddenly  and  very  happily  ended.  Two  teams,  two  white  men,  one  negro  and  ourselves 
constituted  the  party  from  Somerset  to  Lebanon,  a distance  of  about  seventy  miles, 
which  was  made  in  two  and  three-quarter  days.  We  camped  out  two  nights. 

I would  like  to  tell  how  the  old  Star  Spangled  Banner  looked  to  me  as  we  saw  it 
floating  grandly  in  the  evening  breeze  at  Lebanon  on  that  day — the  i8th  of  November, 
1862 — but  language  fails  me. 

“ At  that  time  there  was  a convalescent  camp  at  Lebanon  and  a few  soldiers  on  duty 
as  guards,  but  no  regular  troops.  Some  Confederate  soldiers  on  parole  were  there  also, 
and  others  were  sick  and  wounded — it  was  soon  after  the  battle  of  Perrysburg  or  Crab 
Orchard. 

“We  were  not  very  cordially  received  by  the  officers  in  charge,  as  we  bore  a striking 
resemblance  to  the  parolled  Confederates.  When  we  told  them  who  we  were  and  where 
we  had  been,  they  seemed  to  doubt  our  story.  Then  we  added  that  we  had  spent  six 
months  in  the  prisons  of  the  South,  and  could  stand  a little  more  of  the  same  treatment  if 
they  saw  fit  to  lock  us  up.  They  then  sent  us  to  the  barracks  and  promised  to  forward 
us  northward  in  a few  days.  We  here  gave  our  true  names  for  the  first  time.  The 
fear  that  a large  reward  had  been  offered  for  any  of  us  had  heretofore  kept  both  names 
and  share  in  the  railroad  adventure  a secret 

“ At  the  barracks,  almost  the  first  man  we  met,  was  George  James,  of  my  own  Company. 
As  we  approached,  I called  him  by  nam  ‘ : he  looked  intently  at  us  for  a moment,  then, 


The  Loyal  Mountaineers. 


341 


throwing  up  both  hands  exclaimed,  ‘Dorsey!  is  that  you?’  He  remembered  Hawkins, 
also,  and  at  once  called  another  comrade  from  his  company.  It  was  a happy  meeting, 
but  the  sad  tidings  we  had  to  convey  of  the  death  of  our  leader  and  seven  com- 
rades, and  uncertainty  as  to  the  rest,  marred  the  occasion.  From  these  friends  we  learned 
all  about  our  comrades  in  arms  : who'  had  fallen  in  battle,  who  had  been  wounded,  who 
discharged,  and  something  about  the  friends  at  home.  We  borrowed  a little  money  from 
these  comrades  and  spent  it  for  provisions. 

“I  think  that  we  were  sent  to  Louisville,  Ky.,  the  next  day.  This  was  a regular 
military  post  and  contained  quite  a number  of  troops.  As  Col.  Moore  of  our  regiment 
was  at  his  home  in  Portsmouth,  having  been  wounded  at  Perrysville,  and  as  we  were  so 
thoroughly  broken  down  that  we  were  unfit  for  duty,  we  went  up  the  river  by  steamboat 
to  that  place  and  reported  to  him. 

“On  the  boat,  we  met  Major  Ellis  of  our  regiment,  and  also  a Mr.  Brotherlin,  of 
Columbus,  Ohio,  who  took  a deep  interest  in  us  and  our  story,  and  requested  us  to  call  on 
him  at  his  home.  I did  so  afterward  and  was  introduced  by  him  to  Governor  Todd,  who 
promised  to  remember  me.  He  did  so,  subsequently,  in  the  substantial  shape  of  a com- 
mission as  First  Lieutenant,  which  I declined,  returning  it  with  the  recommendation  that 
our  Second  Lieut,  be  made  First  and  myself  Second,  which  was  done. 

“ Col.  Moore  sent  us  home  to  remain  until  he  got  able  to  return  to  the  regiment,  when, 
he  said,  we  would  all  go  together  ; but  I could  not  wait  so  long,  and  went  to  the  front  on 
my  own  motion,  rejoining  my  regiment  at  Murfreesboro,  only  thirty  miles  north  of  the 
place  where  we  left  camp  on  the  raid.” 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


DOWN  THE  TENNESSEE. -ESCAPE  OF  PORTER  AND 

WOLLAM.^ 

^ ^ A perilous  moment — the  alarm  in  the  jail-yard — we  found  that  we  had  to 

run  for  our  lives  and  every  fellow  for  himself.  We  made  for  the  woods.  In  a 
very  short  time  the  whole  city  was  alarmed  and  in  hot  pursuit.  It  was  a close 
chase.  We  were  fired  upon  by  the  pursuing  rebels,  but  none  of  us  hit.  Everybody  was 
wild  with  excitement,  women  screaming,  men  running,  bells  ringing,  drums  beating,  dogs 
barking,  in  fact  a regular  stampede.  As  I approached  the  woods  I found  my  strength  fail- 
ing, and  I associated  myself  with  John 
Wollam,  according  to  previous  arrange- 
ments. We  soon  arrived  at  a clump  of 
bushes,  and  as  both  of  us  were  nearly  ex- 
hausted we  concluded  to  stop,  though 
fearing  recapture  as  it  was  not  yet  dark. 
We  laid  down,  pulled  some  brush  and 
leaves  over  us,  and  as  everything  was 
hurry  and  excitement,  we  were  not  dis- 
covered, though  they  sometimes  passed 
within  twenty  feet  of  us,  but  were  not  ex- 
pecting any  of  the  party  to  stop  so  soon. 

“ We  remained  in  our  retreat  until  we 
heard  the  city  clocks  strike  ten,  and  by 
that  time  the  excitement  had  died  away 
and  we  concluded  to  go.  As  the  night 
was  dark  and  we  had  no  guide  but  the 
stars,  we  made  slow  progress.  We  ar- 
ranged to  travel  only  at  night  and  lay  up 
in  the  day-time.  After  three  nights  we 
were  still  in  hearing  of  the  city  bells,  but 
I attribute  this  slow  progress  to  our  re- 

John  R.  Porter.  From  a war-time  photograph.  duced  condition  and  the  difficulty  of 

traveling  after  night  over  hills  and  val- 
leys in  a country  we  knew  nothing  about.  We  had  saved  a morsel  from  the  scanty  rations 
for  three  or  four  days,  to  have  something  for  this  emergency.  Many  difficulties  were 
to  encounter,  the  worst  being  that  of  crossing  turbulent  streams,  which  was  dangerous, 
as  we  always  crossed  them  at  night,  and  wherever  we  struck  them.  Generally  we  crossed 
on  logs,  if  we  could  not  ford  the  stream,  in  order  to  keep  our  clothes  dry.  We  had  only 
scanty  rations  to  start  on — less  than  enough  for  two  meals — but  it  was  all  we  had  for  the 


^ Written  by  J.  R.  Porter,  and  slightly  abridged. 


Down  the  Tennessee. — Escape  of  Porter  and  Wollani. 


343 


first  twelve  days.  By  this  time  our  appetites  were  ravenous  and  we  were  ready  to  run  some 
desperate  chances  for  supplies. 

“ Being  in  the  mountainous  districts  of  northern  Georgia,  where  the  country  was  only 
sparsely  settled,  we  concluded  to  take  regular  turns  and  visit  houses  occasionally,  one  of 
us  to  be  on  the  watch  while  the  other  presented  his  claim  for  supplies.  This  was  hardly 
ever  rejected,  owing  to  a very  impressive  appeal  that  we  always  made,  on  the  ground  of 
our  service  to  the  Confederate  cause.  We  generally  made  these  visits  about  dusk  in  order 
to  have  the  advantage  of  darkness  for  escape  if  suspected.  Often  the  one  who  called  at 
the  cabin  homes  was  asked  to  stay  all  night,  but  under  the  circumstances  could  not  accept 
these  hospitalities,  although  the  inmates  were  generally  old  men,  women  and  children. 

“ On  one  occasion  an  old  man  came  to  the  door  and  invited  me  in  ; I told  him  that  I 
only  wanted  something  to  eat  ; he  asked  if  I was  a soldier,  and  I told  him  I was  ; ‘ Come 
in  then,  get  your  supper,  and  stay  all  night,’  he  said.  I could  not  resist  the  temptation 
and  walked  in.  The  occupants  consisted  of  the  old  gentleman,  his  spouse  and  a daughter 
whose  husband  was  in  the  rebel  army.  He  commenced  to  interview  me  as  soon  as  I was 
seated  and  the  young  women  began  getting  supper.  I insisted  on  a cold  lunch  as  I had 
some  distance  to  travel  that  night,  but  it  was  of  no  avail.  They  must  give  me  a warm 
supper,  so  I had  to  rest  easy.  I represented  myself  as  a soldier  belonging  to  a Tennessee 
Regiment  and  on  my  way  to  Bridgeport  to  rejoin  it.  The  old  man’s  son-in-law  belonged 
to  Captain  Smith’s  company,  but  he  did  not  remember  what  regiment,  and  as  they  had  not 
heard  from  him  for  some  time  they  insisted  that  I should  look  him  up  as  soon  as  I got  back, 
and  tell  him  that  his  wife  and  baby  were  well,  also  father,  mother  and  all  the  friends,  and 
to  be  sure  to  write  home  as  soon  as  he  could — all  of  which  I promised  faithfully  to  perform. 
Supper  being  now  ready  I was  invited  to  sit  up  and  help  myself.  It  is  needless  to  say 
that  I did  that  supper  justice.  I found  Wollam  very  impatient  and  about  to  make  an 
assault  on  the  premises  to  find  what  had  become  of  me,  but  the  lunch  that  I had  secured 
compensated  for  my  long  delay. 

“On  another  occasion  we  came  to  a house  while  the  family  were  absent,  and  as  the 
doors  were  locked,  we  crawled  under  the  floor,  raised  a board  and  thus  got  inside,  where 
we  found  a supply  of  corn-bread  and  meat.  At  another  time  we  tore  some  clapboards 
from  the  roof  of  a cabin  in  the  absence  of  the  family,  and  here  also  secured  a small  supply. 

“As  the  dawn  approached  each  morning  we  would  hunt  a place  to  stop  for  the  day. 
After  finding  some  dense  thicket,  or  a cave  in  the  mountains  among  the  rocks,  we  would 
stop  and  listen  for  the  barking  of  dogs  or  the  crowing  of  roosters.  If  there  were  none  in 
hearing,  we  considered  our  retreat  safe.  Otherwise  we  would  continue  our  journey  for  a 
better  hiding  place. 

“ Several  times  we  slipped  into  the  fields  where  the  negroes  were  at  work,  and  stole 
the  provisions  they  had  brought  for  theii  dinner.  One  night  we  traveled  till  we  were 
chilled  and  weary.  It  was  very  late  and  we  were  nearly  frozen,  when  fortunately  we 
discovered  a nest  of  hogs.  Immediately  we  routed  them  up,  and  lying  down  in  the  warm 
retreat  they  had  left,  slept  till  morning. 

“All  this  time  Wollam  was  longing  for  the  Tennessee  River.  He  would  speak  of 
the  rapid  and  easy  manner  in  which  he  had  passed  down  the  stream  when  he  and 
Andrews  escaped  at  Chattanooga,  and  he  believed  that  if  we  could  once  reach  it  and  get 
a boat,  a few  nights’  journeying  would  carry  us  out  of  the  rebel  lines.  Accordingly  we 
kept  going  northwest,  through  the  mountains,  hoping  to  reach  the  river  well  below 
Chattanooga. 

“ Thus  the  time  wore  away,  and  after  twenty-two  days  of  hardship  and  danger,  we 
struck  the  Tennessee  River  about  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles  below  Bridgeport.  This 
was  quite  a relief.  We  intended  to  confiscate  the  first  canoe  or  skiff  that  came  in  our 
way.  Soon  after  we  started  down  the  river  we  saw  a large  canoe  chained  to  a tree  with  a 


344 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


padlock.  We  twisted  the  chain  off  and  sailed  out,  feeling  that  the  worst  was  over,  as  we 
expected  to  make  the  rest  of  the  journey  by  water.  We  ran  our  canoe  at  night  and  hid 
in  the  cane-brakes  during  the  day.  This  was  very  pleasant,  but  it  cut  off  our  means 
of  support  to  a great  extent ; that  is,  it  did  not  afford  us  the  same  opportunity  of  visit- 
ing houses  as  when  we  were  traveling  overland.  We  were  compelled  to  adopt  a new 
plan,  and  thereafter  left  our  retreat  early  in  the  evening  and  returned  to  our  boat  before 
dark.  During  this  time  the  cold  caused  us  much  suffering,  as  our  clothes  were  thin  and 
nearly  worn  out,  while  the  nights  were  very  chilly.  After  having  been  three  nights  on 
the  river  without  anything  to  eat,  we  concluded  to  take  some  desperate  chances  on  the 
following  day.  After  our  regular  rest  in  the  cane-brakes,  we  started  out  early  in  the 
evening.  We  soon  saw  a house  on  the  island.  I cautiously  ventured  up  and  found  the 
place  vacated,  but  there  still  remained  several  stands  of  bees,  I communicated  this 
intelligence  to  Wollam,  and  we  concluded  to  have  some  honey. 

“ We  hunted  around,  found  an  old  crock,  and  raised  the  top  from  one  of  the  hives, 
filling  our  vessel  with  nice  honey.  But  this  was  not  sufficient.  We  put  the  honey  in  the 
boat  and  pulled  out,  intent  on  having  something  more  to  eat.  When  it  was  nearly  dark 
we  observed  a cabin  near  the  bank  of  the  river.  We  ventured  as  near  as  we  thought 
safe  with  our  boat,  then  secreted  it,  and  both  headed  for  the  house.  As  we  approached,  a 
dog  gave  the  alarm,  and  a lady  came  to  the  door.  We  told  her  that  we  were  Confederate 
soldiers,  had  been  sick  and  were  on  our  way  home  to  recruit,  and  that  if  she  would  be  so 
kind  as  to  give  us  a lunch  we  would  travel  on.  She  was  baking  corn-bread,  which  was 
nearly  done,  and  also  frying  meat,  which  we  very  readily  accepted.  After  reaching  our 
boat  we  opened  up  our  treasure,  and,  oh  ! what  a feast  of  corn-bread,  meat,  and  honey 
It  was  either  feast  or  famine  with  us  on  this  whole  journey — oftener  the  latter. 

“ By  this  time  it  was  quite  dark,  and  feeling  much  invigorated  we  again  launched  out 
and  made  good  time  that  night.  The  next  morning  we  stopped  in  a cane-brake,  secreted 
our  boat,  hunted  a suitable  spot  and  fixed  our  bed  for  the  day.  The  bed  consisted 
principally  of  dry  leaves  and  such  other  stuff  as  we  could  gather  up,  a chunk  for  a pillow, 
and  our  old  tattered  coats  for  a covering.  Thus  we  rested  from  our  fatigues.  The  sun 
was  far  down  in  the  west  when  we  awoke,  got  up,  washed  ourselves  and  finished  up  our 
corn-bread  and  meat  left  from  the  evening  before,  but  had  still  a supply  of  honey.  After 
lunch  we  took  a stroll.  It  seemed  very  lonely  and  we  had  the  place  to  ourselves,  but  we 
were  free  ; we  breathed  the  fresh  air.  After  the  sun  had  set  in  the  western  horizon  and 
darkness  had  closed  around  us,  we  again  launched  our  gum-tree  canoe  and  floated  on 
down  the  silent  river. 

‘ ‘ At  that  season  of  the  year  the  river  was  very  low,  and  when  we  arrived  at  the 
head  of  the  Muscle  Shoals  we  had  to  abandon  our  canoe.  This  was  quite  a dis- 
appointment, but  we  were  willing  to  endure  almost  anything  for  the  privilege  of  being 
free,  and  as  we  had  been  very  successful  thus  far,  we  felt  able  to  surmount  every 
obstacle.  It  was  with  some  reluctance  that  we  took  our  leave  of  the  old  canoe, 
as  it 'had  carried  us  safely  for  many  miles  and  had  saved  us  many  hard  nights’ 
walk.  We  journeyed  on  foot  again,  but  were  comforted  by  the  hope  of  securing  another 
boat  as  soon  as  the  river  could  be  navigated.  The  country  being  rough,  we  kept  near 
the  river  and  concluded  to  travel  in  the  day-time  when  we  thought  it  safe  to  do  so.  We 
soon  found  that  this  added  materially  to  our  progress  and  comfort,  and  with  necessary 
precautions  was  almost  as  safe  as  traveling  at  night,  besides  giving  us  a better  chance  of 
foraging,  which  we  very  much  needed. 

“I  will  here  relate  two  or  three  incidents  showing  how  we  secured  supplies.  One 
evening  we  came  to  a field  where  some  negroes  were  gathering  corn.  After  reconnoiter- 
ing  we  discovered  a basket  on  a stump  and  two  dogs  lying  near.  We  thought  that  the 
basket  might  contain  something  to  eat,  and  we  wanted  it.  We  did  not  not  fear  the 


Down  the  Tennessee. — Escape  of  Porter  and  Wollam. 


345 


negroes,  who  were  some  distance  away,  but  how  to  manage  the  dogs!  We  started  in  as 
though  we  were  gathering  corn,  and  gradually  worked  toward  the  basket.  We  got  near 
the  dogs  before  they  discovered  us,  when  they  skulked  away  without  a word.  Upon 
* reaching  the  basket  we  found  it  contained  boiled  beef  and  roasted  sweet  potatoes — the 
negroes’  supper.  We  took  possession  and  fell  back  in  good  order  until  we  reached  the 
woods,  when  we  beat  a hasty  retreat  to  the  river.  We  walked  in  the  water  to  avoid  pur- 
suit by  the  dogs  in  case  they  should  follow  us.  We  then  halted  and  feasted  on  the  poor, 
negroes’  cold  beef  and  potatoes,  and  it  was  a feast  indeed. 

“ On  another  occasion  we  were  traveling  along  the  bank  of  the  river  when  we  came 
upon  a small  canoe  that  contained  fishing  tackle,  which  we  supposed  would  be  used 
^ for  spearing  fish  that  night,  as  there  was  a torch  in  the  boat  ready  to  light.  A little 
distance  from  the  boat  we  observed  a sack  placed  in  a tree.  Wollam  stepped  on  the 
fence,  took  hold  of  the  sack  and  pulled  it  down.  It  proved  to  be  a sack  within  a sack. 
The  outer  one  contained  some  corn  and  the  inner  one  provisions,  which  we  shouldered 
and  carried  to  the  woods,  double  quick.  We  traveled  until  nearly  dark,  and  then  secreting 
ourselves  in  a cane-brake,  proceeded  to  investigate  the  contents  of  the  sack.  We  found 
a large  loaf  of  corn-bread,  four  or  five  pounds  of  bacon,  a tin  of  lard  and  two  or  three 
pounds  of  salt.  We  considered  this  a bonanza,  as  it  lasted  five  days.  It  had  been 
^ prepared  for  the  fishing  party,  as  there  was  a frying  pan  and  other  cooking  utensils  with 
the  boat,  and  lard  and  salt  for  frying  and  salting  the  fish.  No  doubt  we  would  have 
enjoyed  joining  the  fishing  party,  but  circumstances  would  not  permit  us  to  stop  over  ! 

“ We  were  now  near  Florence,  Ala.,  about  forty  miles  from  where  we  left  our  canoe, 
and  at  the  lower  end  of  Muscle  Shoals,  so  that  the  river  might  again  be  navigated  if  we 
could  obtain  a boat.  We  arrived  here  a little  before  midnight.  Everything  was  quiet, 
and  we  hunted  until  we  found  a board  canoe  made  fast  to  a post.  We  loosed  it  and 
^ again  launched  out.  But  it  leaked,  and  as  we  had  no  way  of  bailing  we  were  compelled 
to  abandon  it  and  continue  our  journey  on  foot.  We  had  not  traveled  far  before  we 
found  a skiff  which  proved  to  be  a good  one.  Now  if  we  met  with  no  misfortunes  we 
could  soon  row  the  distance  to  our  own  lines.  From  that  time  until  nearly  daylight  we 
pulled  hard  and  made  good  time  in  order  to  avoid  pursuit.  We  stopped  in  a dense  cane- 
brake  where  we  felt  secure  for  the  day,  prepared  a bed  and  were  soon  in  the  land  of  Nod. 
We  slept  till  afternoon,  when  we  got  up  and  took  a stroll,  after  which  we  ate  lunch  and 
felt  very  much  revived. 

» “ We  learned  from  a negro  the  following  evening  that  Corinth,  Miss.,  was  in  possession 

of  the  Federal  army,  and  we  concluded  to  make  our  way  there  when  we  should  leave  the 
river.  At  Hamburg  Landing,  about  eighteen  miles  from  Corinth,  we  left  our  boat  and 
started  across  the  country.  As  we  could  hear  of  no  rebel  force  in  the  vicinity  we  felt  com- 
paratively safe  but  we  resolved  to  use  all  precautions,  and  not  to  discover  ourselves  until 
we  actually  saw  the  Union  blue,  and  the  old  Stars  and  Stripes. 

“ It  was  now  evening,  and  as  the  rain-clouds  were  gathering,  we  soon  found  that  we 
^ would  have  to  stop  for  the  night.  While  wandering  around  in  search  of  shelter  we  heard 
the  bark  of  a dog,  and  discovered  a house  a short  distance  off  by  means  of  the  vivid  flashes 
of  lightning.  The  rain  was  already  descending  in  torrents.  Our  intention  was  to  hunt 
the  stable  or  some  other  out-building  and  remain  until  morning.  But  the  dog  made  sc 
much  noise  that  we  either  had  to  leave  or  march  boldly  up  to  the  house,  and  preferred  the 
latter.  We  walked  up  to  the  fence  ; an  old  man  came  to  the  door  and  asked  who  was 
there.  We  said,  ‘ Friends  who  desire  shelter  and  a place  of  rest  for  the  night.*  He  asked 
if  we  were  soldiers  and  we  answered  ‘ Yes.’  He  then  invited  us  in.  They  had  just  finished 
t supper,  and  there  was  a nice  blazing  fire.  We  took  off  our  coats  and  hung  them  up  to  dry 
before  the  fire.  The  old  lady  commenced  preparing  supper  for  us,  during  which  time  we 
were  questioned  by  the  old  gentleman.  We  told  him  that  we  belonged  to  a Mississippi 


346 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Reg-iment  and  lived  twenty  miles  south-west  of  Corinth,  that  we  had  been  sick  at  Florence, 
Ala.,  and  were  on  our  way  home  to  recruit,  and  get  new  clothing,  which  we  badly 
needed.  The  old  man’s  name  was  Washburn;  he  lived  fourteen  miles  from  Corinth,  and 
had  a son  in  the  Confederate  army;  but  as  the  rebels  had  been  meeting  with  some  reverses, 
he  had  lost  confidence  in  the  cause,  and  thought  unless  a change  came  soon,  that  the  South 
would  not  gain  independence.  Supper  being  ready,  we  were  invited  to  sit  up  and  help 
.ourselves.  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  we  accepted  ! The  demand  of  our  appetites 
was  great  and  the  supply  adequate.  It  was  quite  late  that  night  before  we  retired,  as  we 
were  anxious  to  learn  all  the  particulars  about  the  country,  how  we  were  to  get  around 
Corinth,  as  we  lived  directly  beyond,  and  wanted  to  take  the  most  direct  route,  and  yet 
avoid  coming  in  contact  with  the  Yankees.  At  the  same  time  we  were  careful  to  learn 
the  most  direct  route  to  Corinth.  As  there  were  no  Confederate  troops  in  that  vicinity  we 
began  to  feel  comparatively  safe,  and  to  indulge  the  blissful  expectation  of  seeing  our 
soldiers  the  next  day  ! We  offered  to  sleep  in  front  of  the  fire,  but  this  would  not  do.  We 
must  take  a bed.  We  were  reluctant  but  yielded,  and  slept  till  about  four  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  when  we  were  aroused  by  the  old  man  building  a fire,  and  the  old  lady  soon  got 
up  and  prepared  a hasty  breakfast,  and  we  were  enabled  to  take  our  departure  before  day- 
light. As  we  were  taking  our  leave  they  asked  us  to  stop  again  if  we  should  ever  travel 
that  way,  and  let  them  know  how  we  got  around  the  Yankees  at  Corinth.  We  promised 
and  started  on  our  way. 

“ Owing  to  the  rain,  the  roads  were  bad  and  we  did  not  make  good  time,  but  about 
eleven  o’clock  as  we  emerged  from  a strip  of  woods  four  miles  from  Corinth,  we  discovered 
some  men  and  teams.  The  men  wore  blue  coats  ! As  we  neared  the  premises  our  joy 
became  full.  They  were  Federal  soldiers  ! Our  terrible  captivity  was  past ! Freedom  once 
more  ! 

“ We  were  soon  in  the  midst  of  a squad  of  the  Ninth  Iowa,  but  we  still  bore  the  resem- 
blance of  dilapidated  rebels,  and  after  relating  our  experience,  and  telling  the  officer  where 
we  belonged,  he  laughed  and  said  that  our  story  might  be  true,  and  that  he  would  take 
enlarge  of  us  and  conduct  us  to  the  post.  The  officer  in  charge  here  was  still  more  skeptical 
in  regard  to  our  character.  He  charged  us  with  being  rebel  spies  and  said  they  had  a 
place  for  us.  A lieutenant  from  the  Twentieth  Ohio  was  less  skeptical,  and  a guard  was 
ordered  to  escort  us  to  the  Provost-Marshal’s  quarters  in  Corinth.  Several  officers  were  in 
the  room  when  we  arrived,  and  all  eyes  were  upon  us.  The  guard  introduced  us  as  escaped 
prisoners.  There  was  incredulity  written  in  the  face  of  every  officer  as  we  were  invited  to 
be  seated.  I soon  observed  from  their  conversation  that  we  were  to  undergo  a very  strict 
examination.  They  commenced  in  an  insulting  and  sarcastic  manner.  In  turn  we  were 
very  independent,  feeling  much  elated  over  our  success  in  reaching  the  Federal  lines,  and 
were  as  tantalizing  as  they,  often  laughing  to  ourselves  in  a quiet  way,  knowing  that  we 
could  easily  establish  our  claim,  and  turn  the  tables  on  them.  After  becoming  convinced 
that  we  were  not  to  be  scared  they  concluded  to  proceed  in  a more  genteel  manner.  We 
were  next  conducted  to  General  Dodge’s  headquarters.  Upon  being  introduced,  he  bade  us 
be  seated,  and  we  found  him  to  be  very  much  of  a gentleman.  After  a short  interview  he 
recognized  our  true  character  and  received  a full  detail  of  our  adventures.  He  then  ordered 
the  Quarter-Master  to  furnish  us  with  a full  supply  of  clothing  and  blankets,  and  to  report 
to  him  again.  We  went  to  the  Quarter-Master’s  department,  drew  our  clothing,  took  a 
‘ general  clean  up,’  robed  ourselves  in  army  blue,  and  felt  that  we  were  no  longer  fugitives 
and  wanderers,  but  free  men.  Some  of  the  boys  soon  learned  where  we  had  been,  and 
the  consequence  was  that  we  had  to  relate  our  experience  wherever  we  went.  After  taking 
supper  with  the  Quarter-Master,  we  again  reported  to  General  Dodge,  who  made  us  a 
present  of  five  dollars  each,  and  gave  us  an  order  for  transportation  to  our  regiments. 

“ It  was  now  the  eighteenth  of  November,  1862 — a month  and  two  days  since  leaving 


Down  the  Tennessee. — Escape  of  Porter  and  Wollain. 


347 


the  prison  ! We  had  been  absent  from  our  regiments  over  six  months,  given  up  by  our 
comrades  as  dead,  and  therefore  we  were  anxious  to  get  back  once  more.  We  had  to  go 
by  rail  from  Corinth,  Miss.,  to  Columbus,  Ky.  It  was  a beautiful  night  when  we  started 
^ and  we  fully  enjoyed  it.  In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Columbus,  where  we  took  a boat  for 
Cairo,  111.  We  had  a pleasant  trip  from  Columbus  to  Cairo.  Upon  arriving  we  reported 
to  the  Provost-Marshal  to  learn  the  whereabouts  of  our  regiments,  but  could  hear  nothing 
of  them.  We  then  got  transportation  to  Louisville,  Ky.,  and  after  a weary  night’s  travel 
arrived  and  reported  to  the  proper  authorities,  but  still  failed  to  get  any  tidings  of  our 
regiments.  After  a few  hours  delay  in  the  city,  we  concluded  to  push  on  to  Nashville, 
and  took  the  first  train  south.  Judge  my  surprise  when  we  reached  Nashville  to  find  the 
^ old  Twenty-first  doing  provost  duty  there,  and  the  Thirty-third — Wollam’s — regiment,  in 
camp  only  eight  miles  away  ! I will  never  forget  the  expression  of  Colonel  Niebling,  when 
he  took  me  by  the  hand  and  welcomed  me  back.  I was  heartily  congratulated  by  all  the 
boys  and  there  was  general  rejoicing.  After  a few  days’  rest  I was  again  ready  for  duty,’* 


» 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

FLOATING  TO  THE  GULF. 

Authorities  ; i.  Report  of  Wood  and  Wilson  to  Secretary  of  War  from  Key  West, 
Nov.  1 2th,  1862.  2.  Account  published  by  Wood  and  Wilson  in  Key  West  New 

Era^  Nov.  15th,  1862.  3.  Conversation  with  Wilson  in  Ohio,  1887.  4.  Adven- 

tures of  Alf.  Wilson,  published  in  book-form  in  Toledo,  O.,  1880. 

route  followed  by  Wood  and  Wilson  was  at  once  the  easiest  and 
I the  least  obvious.  In  the  prison  we  had  discussed  the  possibility 
of  going  south  as  we  had  all  other  routes^  and  it  was  agreed  that 
it  would  have  many  advantages  if  we  could  be  certain  of  finding  some  of 
our  coast  fortresses  or  ships.  But  this  was  so  doubtful  that  I am  not  sure 

that  any  had  adopted  it  before  the 
break  was  made.  Certainly  none 
of  us  knew  exactly  the  course  of 
the  Chattahoochee  River  or  the 
great  advantage  it  possessed  for 
such  a purpose.  Rising  in  the 
North-eastern  part  of  Georgia,  it 
is  already  a considerable  stream 
when  it  flows  a short  distance  west 
of  Atlanta^  and  then  southward 
between  Georgia  and  Alabama, 
and  across  Florida,  till  it  empties 
into  a large  bay  which  in  turn 
opens  to  the  gulf.  Wilson  seems 
to  have  been  a natural  boatman, 
and  his  adventures  in  his  first  at- 
tempt to  escape  by  the  Tennessee 
are  vividly  recalled  in  this  new  ef- 
fort. In  no  other  way  would  it 
have  been  possible  for  him  to  have 
saved  his  friend  Wood,  who  was  too  sick  to  put  forth  great  exertions,  but 
took  shelter  under  the  guardianship  of  his  more  robust  companion.  The 
bearing  of  this  sick  man  safely  through  four  hundred  miles  of  foes  was 
one  of  the  most  heroic  deeds  ever  inspired  by  soldierly  fidelity. 

At  the  first,  however.  Wood  probably  saved  the  life  of  his  comrade. 


Floating  to  the  Gulf, 


349 


Wilson  was  engaged  in  trying  to  drive  away  the  two  guards  outside  of  the 
jail-gate  with  bricks,  so  that  it  might  be  clear  for  exit — an  unequal  contest, 
for  they  were  armed  with  muskets  and  were  now  receiving  reinforcements — 
when  Wood,  who  had  noticed  the  other  raiders  climbing  the  fence  at  the 
back  of  the  yard,  called  him  to  come  quickly  in  that  direction,  or  it  would 
be  too  late  to  escape.  No  second  call  was  required.  They  scaled  the 
fence  together,  though  a volley  was  fired,  and  hurried  on  their  way.  It 
was  a terrible  run,  especially  for  Wood,  but  they  reached  the  shelter  of 
the  forest,  and  then  dodged  from  one  thicket  to  another  till  night. 

Darkness  came  none  too  soon,  for  a squadron  of  rebel  cavalry  in  skir- 
mish order  galloped  toward  the  place  where  they  were.  They  could  only 
dart  under  a pine  bush  and  falling  flat,  hope  that  they  might  not  be  ob- 
served. Here  they  remained  for  some  time  hearing  rapid  firing  and  think- 
ing that  probably  many  of  their  comrades  had  been  shot.  They  had  al- 
ready seen  Captain  Fry  fall,  and  afterward  reported  him  as  dead.  In- 
fantry soon  followed  the  cavalry,  and  pickets  were  posted  along  the  road, 
one  of  these  being  within  fifteen  feet  of  their  hiding  place.  These  pickets 
were  very  free  in  expressing  their  opinion  of  the  fugitives,  and  Wilson 
and  Wood  heard  much  about  themselves  the  reverse  of  complimentary. 
Porter  and  Wollam  glided  by  while  they  were  still  concealed,  but  our  hid- 
den comrades  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  them  for  fear  of  the  enemy  so 
close  at  hand. 

Late  at  night  they  left  their  hiding  place  and  crawled  between  two 
sentinels  as  the  only  mode  of  passing,  and  getting  cautiously  over  the 
fence,  they  crossed  an  open  field  at  a full  run,  and  at  the  far  side  found 
a stream  of  water  in  which  they  waded  to  break  the  scent  should  any 
dogs  be  following.  Then  they  went  a short  distance  up  a wooded  hill- 
slope,  when  being  exhausted  they  lay  down  to  rest. 

Their  emotions  were  of  mingled  character.  They  were  glad  to  be  out 
of  the  terrible  prison,  but  were  so  weak  that  they  feared  the  journey  home. 
They  now  spoke  for  the  first  time,  and  in  the  tumult  of  their  feelings  prayed 
and  swore  in  the  same  breath.  The  cool  woods  under  the  open  sky,  and 
the  fresh  night  air,  made  such  a contrast  to  the  narrow  filthy  prison  that  it 
is  no  wonder,  as  they  realized  a hope  of  escaping  these  things  forever,  that 
they  were  nearly  insane  with  joy. 

But  the  obstacles  to  success, — the  sleepless  nights,  and  the  days  of 
hiding,  in  prospect,  repressed  their  exultation.  Wilson  tried  to  form 
his  plans,  for  on  him  rested  all  the  responsibility,  Wood  yielding  to  his 
stronger  companion  with  a docility  that  is  truly  touching.  The  idea 
of  mountain  travel  about  Chattanooga,  where  they  had  so  sore  an  experi- 
ence six  months  before,  was  so  repulsive  that  Wilson  formed  the  bold, 
and,  as  circumstances  showed,  the  wise  resolution  of  pushing  for  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico.  But  his  knowledge  of  geography  was  slight,  and  to  find  a 


350 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


river  that  would  lead  in  that  direction  was  no  slight  task.  He  had  heard 
of  the  Chattahoochee,  but  did  not  know  where  it  was,  or  to  what  part  of 
the  gulf  it  would  lead;  yet  he  determined  to  reach  it  if  possible.  In  no 
way  can  persons  travelling  at  night  in  a strange  and  hostile  country  guide 
themselves  so  well  as  by  the  course  of  a river,  which  has  the  further  ad-  / 
vantage  of  carrying  them  by  an  enemy’s  picket  so  quietly  that  it  must  be 
a close  watch  indeed  that  will  detect  them:  and  even  if  discovered,  they 
have  the  chance  of  crossing  opposite  their  foes  and  escaping  by  land. 
There  are  other  advantages,  as  will  appear  in  the  experiences  of  these  two 
men;  but  these  were  sufficient  to  make  them  look  diligently  for  a south- 
ward flowing  river. 

After  resting  and  settling  their  plans,  they  arose,  and  finding  an  open 
place, “ looked  up  the  North  star”  and  took  their  bearings.  Then  they 
set  out  south-west,  which  was  a mistake,  for  the  river  running  nearly  in 
that  course,  it  would  take  them  a long  time  to  reach  it. 

Before  long  they  passed  a railroad  which  they  supposed  to  be  one  that 
led  to  Columbus,  and  judged  that  they  were  travelling  in  the  right  direc- 
tion When  daylight  came  they  sought  a secluded  spot,  and  preparing 
clubs  as  weapons  against  any  dogs  that  might  pounce  upon  them,  they  lay 
down  and  slept.  Late  in  the  afternoon  they  woke,  refreshed,  but  hungry, 
lame,  and  footsore,  as  might  be  expected  from  their  terrible  run.  They 
ate  all  the  rations  they  carried  from  the  prison — Porter  and  Wollam,  more 
provident,  made  theirs  last  for  several  days — and  trusted  the  future  for 
new  supplies.  They  sat  and  looked  at  each  other  here,  thinking  far  from 
pleasant  thoughts.  They  were  ragged  to  the  point  of  nakedness,  dirty, 
and  haggard,  so  that  if  they  met  any  one  they  were  sure  to  be  suspected; 
they  saw  the  smoke  curl  invitingly  from  houses  in  the  beautiful  valley  they 
overlooked,  but  did  not  dare  to  seek  lodging  or  food.  They  knew  that 
the  white  people  were  enemies,  and  feared  to  trust  the  negroes,  with  whom 
they  had  but  little  acquaintance.  The  latter  would  have  saved  them  from 
great  suffering  had  they  been  willing  to  risk  approaching  them.  But  as 
the  sun  was  setting.  Wood  suggested  that  they  ought  to  be  travelling. 

In  the  twilight  and  through  the  whole  night  they  pushed  on,  with  no 
adventure  save  the  crossing  a corn-field  and  pulling  as  much  corn  as  they 
could  carry  easily.  This  kept  them  gnawing  and  somewhat  appeased  their 
hunger.  They  rested  the  next  day,  and  found  in  the  evening  that  it  was 
only  with  the  utmost  suffering  that  they  could  push  on.  Wood  wanted 
to  die,  saying  that  a man’s  life  was  only  a curse  to  him  when  obliged  to 
live  in  such  agony;  but  Wilson  encouraged  him  by  urging  that  they  would 
soon  reach  a river  where  they  could  travel  more  easily;  and  with  great 
difficulty,  by  stopping  frequently  for  him,  he  kept  the  poor  fellow  moving 
on.  Part  of  the  way  Wood  crawled  on  his  hands  and  knees  ! 

But  when  even  Wilson  was  about  ready  to  surrender,  being  a little 


Floating  to  the  Gulf, 


351 


ahead,  he  heard  the  gurgling  of  water.  He  had  felt  that  they  could  not 
possibly  go  a mile  further,  but  this  was  new  inspiration:  he  told  Wood, 
and  so  cheered  him  up  that  he  put  forth  his  last  strength,  and  soon  they 
stood  on  the  bank  of  a small  stream  they  believed  to  be  the  Chattahoo- 
chee. Probably,  from  the  course  they  took,  it  was  one  of  the  tributaries 
of  that  stream  which  flows  westward  and  soon  falls  into  it.  But  it  an- 
swered every  purpose,  and  in  describing  their  sensations  as  they  looked 
upon  it,  Wilson  compares  their  joy  with  that  of  the  discoverers  of  the 
Pacific  and  of  the  Mississippi.  It  was  the  road  that  led  home  ! They 
felt'that  they  could  follow  it  with  confidence  though  it  led  to  the  South 
and  not  to  the  North,  for  was  not  all  the  sea  under  the  old  flag?  They 
felt  like  shouting,  but  concluded  to  stint  their  joy  till  they  reached  a 
country  less  peopled  with  enemies;  and  finding  the  direction  of  the  cur- 
rent, edged  down  the  stream  till  a boat  was  discovered.  It  mattered  little 
that  the  skiff  was  chained  to  a tree;  neither  the  question  of  ownership  or  the 
lock  troubled  them,  for  necessity  solved  the  one,  and  a stone  was  an  ef- 
fective key.  In  a few  minutes  two  happy  men  were  gliding  down  the 
smooth  and  narrow  stream.  Their  wearied  feet  could  now  rest  and  be 
bathed  in  the  cool  waters,  while  their  arms  took  the  labor.  They  paddled 
briskly  through  the  profound  darkness  caused  by  the  closely  overhanging 
trees,  wishing  to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  the  owner  of  the  boat  before 
daylight;  and  also  finding  this  mode  of  progression  so  delightful  that  they 
hardly  thought  they  could  have  too  much  of  it.  They  did  not  realize  how 
terribly  tiresome  the  hundreds  of  miles  that  lay  before  them  could  yet 
become.  As  day  began  to  break,  they  sought  the  darkest  inlet  of  the 
river — it  is  probable  that  they  now  were  on  the  main  stream — and  hid 
themselves  and  their  precious  boat. 

Blit  the  day  was  less  pleasant  than  the  night.  The  mosquitoes  preyed 
upon  them  unmercifully,  and  as  it  was  now  four  days  since  they  had  left 
jail,  during  which  time  they  had  obtained  no  food  but  the  corn,  they  were 
suffering  too  greatly  with  hunger  to  sleep  much,  and  when  they  did,  the 
dreams  of  feasting  made  the  wakening  a bitter  disappointment.  In  the 
dusk  they  set  out  with  the  resolve  to  have  food  at  any  risk*.  Before  it  was 
quite  dark  they  saw  a house  favorably  situated,  and,  hiding  the  boat,  went 
up  to  it.  A number  of  small  negro  huts  and  some  bloodhounds  chained 
to  the  fence  showed  it  to  be  a regular  plantation.  Their  story  about  being 
sick  soldiers  was  credited,  and  supper  promised.  While  waiting  for  its  prep- 
aration, they  asked  for  news  and  heard  a highly  colored  account  of  the 
escape  of  the  “ Engine-thieves ''  from  the  Atlanta  prison.  The  planter 
said  they  were  a dangerous  set,  who  ought  to  have  been  hung  long, ago, 
and  that  some  of  them  fought  even  after  they  were  shot  through  the  body. 
He  was  discouraged  as  to  the  prospect  of  the  war,  and  gave  a sad  account 
of  the  composition  of  the  Union  army;  but  while  he  talked  they  ate,  until 


352 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


everything  cooked  was  devoured.  They  were  making  up  for  lost  time  1 
Soon  they  were  again  sweeping,  with  vigorous  strokes,  down  the  river. 

As  they  passed  along  at  a good  rate  of  speed,  Wilson  found  himself 
in  a moment  struggling  in  the  river.  He  thought  of  torpedoes  and  every 
other  danger,  but  on  getting  into  the  boat  again,  discovered  that  it  was 
only  a ferry-boat  wire,  which  had  caused  the  mishap:  no  evil  more  serious 
than  the  wetting  followed. 

Toward  morning  Wilson  became  so  sleepy  that  he  could  guide  the  boat 
no  longer,  and  entrusting  the  paddle  to  the  unskillful  hands  of  Wood,  lay 
down,  charging  him  to  keep  the  boat  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  but  was 
soon  awakened  with  the  terrible  report  that  they  could  go  no  further, 
for  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the  river  ! It  was  only  a cove  into 
which  Wood  had  run,  under  the  shadow  of  the  mountain,  and  when 
they  were  out,  Wilson  was  wakened  enough  to  keep  his  place  at  the  oars 
till  day. 

They  had  one  experience  for  which  they  were  never  able  to  account. 
From  the  first  entrance  into  the  river  till  they  reached  the  rapids  above 
Columbus,  they  had  heard  a singular  noise  as  of  something  following  the 
boat.  This  terrified  them  in  the  darkness;  once  they  saw  it — a large  ani- 
mal unlike  anything  they  had  ever  encountered,  and  it  seemed  to  be  al- 
ways at  the  same  distance.  But  it  finally  left  them.  If  it  was  their  evil 
genius,  it  had  respect  enough  for  bravery  and  perseverance  to  do  them  no 
harm,  and  not  to  follow  them  on  the  lower  half  of  the  river  ! 

They  reached  the  rapids  of  the  river  in  the  night,  and  knowing  nothing 
of  the  stream  pressed  on,  passing  places  in  the  darkness  that  would  have 
frightened  them  if  the  rocks  had  been  clearly  visible.  Several  times  they 
scarcely  escaped  wreck.  They  were  glad  when  daylight  came,  and  on  a 
hill-side  they  were  not  only  less  troubled  by  the  mosquitoes,  but  the  sun 
warmed  them,  and  they  had  a fine  day’s  sleep. 

The  next  night  they  came  on  a mill  dam,  and  in  the  darkness  thought 
it  might  safely  be  shot;  but  the  experience  was  not  one  they  cared  to  re- 
peat; then  the  river  grew  more  turbulent  and  the  country  around  mountain- 
ous. They  kept  on  till  they  were  drawn  into  a fearful  gorge,  from  which 
it  was  impossible  to  extricate  their  boat.  They  dared  not  go  ahead  and 
they  could  not  return;  so  they  found  a landing  place,  and  abandoned*  to 
the  current  the  boat  which  had  carried  them  a hundred  miles  on  their 
homeward  way. 

Wood  was  completely  drenched  in  getting  out  and  was  nearly  frozen, 
till,  on  the  hillside  above,  the  rays  of  the  sun  the  next  day  warmed  his 
blood  somewhat.  He  was  so  weak  as  to  be  almost  incapable  of  caring  for 
himself  and  frequently  had  to  be  led,  as  he  would  stagger  in  walking  and 
even  be  unable  to  see.  But  Wilson  never  thought  of  leaving  him. 

Under  such  circumstances  the  three  days  journey  through  the  moun- 


Floating  to  the  Gulf, 


353 


tains  that  was  necessary  to  clear  the  rapids,  involved  dreadful  hardships 
to  both  men.  They  could  not  go  much  more  than  five  miles  daily.  The 
country  was  rocky,  and  their  feet  were  in  even  a worse  condition  than  on 
their  first  setting  out.  They  travelled  in  the  day-time  in  the  mountains, 
as  they  could  not  have  made  any  progress  at  night,  and  the  country  was 
so  thinly  inhabited  that  this  did  not  seem  to  involve  any  great  degree  of 
risk.  But  their  sufferings  the  last  day  before  reaching  Columbus  were 
indescribable.  When  they  saw  the  town,  it  was  a wonderful  satisfaction, 
as  they  knew  that  the  river  then  would  be  open  to  the  gulf.  But  they 
hid  in  the  day  and  made  a long  detour  around  the  city.  There  they  con- 
cealed themselves  among  some  drift-wood  covered  with  grape-vines,  and 
were  able  to  see  the  rebels  at  work  on  the  ram  Chattahoochee,  of  which 
they  carried  the  first  report  to  the  Federals.  It  afterward  blew  up  and 
never  reached  the  gulf. 

The  next  thing  was  to  find  a boat.-  One  was  seen  in  plain  view  of  the 
new  iron-clad.  This  was  serious,  as  the  work  was  being  pressed  night  and 
day,  and  the  light  was  also  kept  bright  continually.  But  Wilson  wanted 
the  boat,  and  creeping  up  with  a stick,  managed  to  break  the  lock.  When 
they  got  the  boat  after  this  danger,  they  found  it  to  leak  so  as  to  be  al- 
most worthless.  It  carried  them  some  distance  down  stream,  when  they 
saw  a group  of  boats  on  the  Alabama  side  of  the  river.  They  “ traded  for 
one,  but  the  owner  arrived  in  sight  just  as  they  were  getting  off  and  called 
them  unpleasant  names.  Not  wishing  to  prolong  a dispute  which 
could  only  hurt  their  feelings,  they  pushed  the  other  boats  into  the  river, 
and  as  these  floated  down  they  did  some  rapid  rowing  the  stream. 
The  owners  got  the  other  boats  and  followed.  But  a river  with  islands  and 
dark  wooded  shores  gives  heavy  odds  to  a fugitive  boat  at  night,  and  by 
the  time  our  comrades  had  got  round  an  island,  they  were  able,  under  the 
shadows  of  the  shore,  to  turn  down  stream  while  they  were  being  pursued 
up  the  river.  They  were  exultant  over  their  escape  though  nearly  starved. 

Wilson  moralizes  on  the  terrible  deprivations  which  were  endured  in 
this  voyage,  declaring  his  belief  that  man  can  endure  more  than  any  other 
animal,  but  doubting  whether  he  himself  could  go  through  the  same  hard- 
ships again.  They  could  make  nearly  fifty  miles  anight  down  stream  with 
their  paddles  and  felt  that  the  hope  of  reaching  the  gulf  was  good,  if  they 
could  only  keep  from  starving.  But  food  became  an  urgent  necessity. 
Their  feet  troubled  them  no  more,  but  their  stomachs  gave  them  great 
solicitude. 

The  next  evening  they  found  a corn-field  and  gathered  some  of  the 
ears — a very  unsubstantial  diet.  But  what  was  much  better,  they  found 
a number  of  pumpkins  and  secured  the  seeds.  A steamboat  was  safely 
passed,  by  gliding  in  the  shadow  of  the  shore. 

The  scenery  of  the  lower  Chattahoochee  was  found  to  be  of  a very  lonely 
23  ^ 


354 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


character.  The  river  is  a mere  water  way  through  unpeopled  forests  and 
frequent  swamps.  The  trees  are  covered  with  great  masses  of  moss,  and 
the  forests  can  be  seen  through  for  but  a little  way.  This  moss  frequently 
hung  from  the  topmost  branches  of  great  trees  clear  down  into  the  water, 
and  swayed  with  the  sighing  breeze.  The  moss  was  very  useful  in  a way 
that  added  greatly  to  the  picturesque  appearance  of  the  two  travellers  — 
had  any  one  been  present  to  observe  them!  They  covered  themselves 
with  it  from  head  to  foot  to  escape  the  attacks  of  the  numerous  and 
deadly  mosquitoes.  The  water  snakes  and  alligators  were  also  unpleasant 
company,  and  very  abundant. 

Wilson  knew  nothing  about  the  habits  of  the  latter  and  was  very  much 
afraid  of  them.  They  would  follow  the  boat,  or  show  themselves  at  the 
most  unexpected  places.  When  the  poor  fugitives  would  sleep  for  a short 
time  in  piles  of  drift-wood,  they  would,  on  awakening,  often  see  one  or 
more  of  the  savage  monsters  lazily  watching  them,  as  if  sure  of  their  prey. 
Wilson  had  only  the  natural  fears  inspired  by  their  formidable  appearance; 
but  poor  Wood  was  superstitious  also,  and  compared  them  to  sharks  hov- 
ering around  a ship  doomed  to  wreck,  and  felt  almost  sure  that  he  and  his 
companion  would  soon  fall  victims  to  these  patient  monsters.  They  found 
that  the  alligators  would  not  fight  a waking  man  on  the  shore,  but  scarcely 
ever  fell  asleep  without  the  nightmare  feeling  that  one  of  them  might 
steal  up  and  seize  an  arm  or  leg! 

The  fugitives  had  a great  fright  about  half  way  down  the  river.  They 
went  in  search  of  food  and  procured  a small  supply,  but  found  to  their 
horror  on  returning  that  their  boat  had  been  carried  off!  The  wickedness 
of  boat  stealing  was  now  fully  realized  by  them!  It  was  raining  and  they 
were  in  the  midst  of  swamps.  On  the  south,  another  river  emptied  into 
the  Chattahoochee  so  that  it  was  not  possible  for  them  to  continue  their 
journey  further  without  a boat.  It  was  now  dark,  and  all  they  could  do 
was  to  find  a place  slightly  out  of  the  water,  where  they  spent  a most  sor- 
rowful and  hopeless  night.  How  happy  their  former  condition  now  ap- 
peared when  they  had  a boat — that  best  of  earthly  possessions!  Hunger 
was  a small  calamity  in  comparison  with  finding  themselves  thus  cut  off 
from  all  means  of  locomotion, — stranded  in  the  midst  of  a Georgia  swamp. 

All  the  next  day  was  spent  in  vain  wanderings  through  the  swamps. 
But  toward  evening  they  saw  something  across  the  river  which  looked  like 
a boat  partly  sunken.  To  get  over  the  stream  more  than  half  a mile  wide 
was  the  next  problem.  A frail  raft  was  constructed,  with  a grapevine  as 
a rope  for  tying  the  pieces  together,  and  Wilson  tried  the  passage,  sinking 
deeply  in  the  water.  Now  was  the  time  to  think  of  alligators!  He  had 
a stick  in  his  hand  as  an  oar  and  weapon,  but  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before 
he  was  able  under  such  circumstances  to  get  over.  But  when  he  did, 
there  was  an  abundant  reward — a better  boat  than  the  one  they  had  lost! 


Floating  to  the  Gulf, 


355 


No  time  was  spent  considering  the  right  of  property,  and  in  a few  minutes 
the  adventurers  were  once  more  together,  rejoicing  over  their  deliverance. 

^ Rapidly  they  swept  down  the  stream  and  made  good  progress  that  night. 
They  also  resolved  that  they  would  not  both  leave  their  boat  again,  starve 
or  not;  any  calamity  seemed  less  than  being  deprived  of  the  boat.  In 
pursuance  of  this  resolution  Wilson  went  alone  in  search  of  supplies,  and 
in  a vacant  cabin' was  fortunate  enough  to  find  quite  a prize — some  fish- 
hooks and  lines.  With  these  he  returned  in  triumph  to  his  companion, 
feeling  that  they  were  now  reasonably  sure  of  one  article  of  diet.  The 

• whole  country  seemed  an  immense  swamp,  with  no  corn-fields,  but  they 
had  a considerable  supply  of  corn,  which  disagreed  with  them  as  they  were 
obliged  to  eat  it  raw.  To  their  bleeding  mouths  and  fevered  stomachs 
the  raw  catfish,  of  which  they  caught  a good  quantity,  was  far  more  nu- 
tritious. Had  they  been  able  to  provide  fire  they  could  have  feasted. 

Wood  had  suffered  so  much  from  hunger  and  excessive  fatigue  that 

^his  comrade  feared  at  times  that  he  was  losing  his  mind.  He  began  to 
talk  wildly  and  would  frequently  call  out  in  pain  and  terror  while  asleep. 
This  added  greatly  to  the  cares  of  Wilson,  who  hardly  dared  trust  him 
alone  for  a minute.  But  the  raw  catfish,  of  which  he  ate  large  quantities, 
seemed  to  help  him.  For  two  weeks  after  leaving  Columbus  they  had 
but  four  meals  in  addition  to  their  raw  corn.  Wilson  believes  that  the 
fish  saved  their  lives. 

• From  day  to  day  the  stream  widened,  showing  that  the  river  journey 
was  almost  ended,  but  that  their  greatest  danger  lay  just  ahead.  The 
rebels  might  have  picket-boats,  or  the  swell  from  the  gulf  might  prove 
too  much  for  their  frail  craft.  They  soon  saw  signs  of  a large  town  ahead 
that  proved  to  be  Appalachicola 

But  before  trying  to  pass  this  point  they  resolved  to  take  some  risk 

• in  order  to  gain  a little  necessary  information,  and  possibly  some  cooked 
food  as  well.  So  they  landed  not  far  from  a cabin,  and  Wilson,  taking  a 
pipe  he  had  fortunately  found  in  the  last  boat,  went  up  to  the  house  to 
beg  a light.  The  cabin  proved  to  be  inhabited  by  an  old  Scotchman,  who 
gave  some  matches,  and  told  him  that  the  blockading  fleet  was  off  the 
mouth  of  the  gulf.  Wilson  returned  to  the  boat  elated  with  his  success, 

I and  found  that  Wood  had  been  equally  fortunate.  He  had  discovered  a 
negro  canoe  not  far  away  with  some  sweet  potatoes  on  board,  and  at  once 
appropriated  a good  number.  They  were  now  rich  indeed,  and  resolved 
to  recruit  a little  before  entering  upon  the  dangers  still  before  them. 
Accordingly  they  rowed  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  and  from  thence 
up  a small  tributary  to  a place  which  looked  as  if  it  had  been  solitary  since 
tiie  days  of  Adam.  There  they  built  a fire  in  security,  roasted  their 

^ potatoes,  broiled  their  catfish  and  ate  ! The  only  drawback  was  the  fear 
of  Wilson  that  such  a banquet,  after  their  long  starvation,  might  prove  too 


356 


Darmg  and  Suffering. 


much  for  their  endurance;  so,  when  they  had  eaten  enough  for  eight  men^ 
he  persuaded  his  comrade  to  suspend  for  a time,  and  began  to  cook 
supplies  for  the  remainder  of  the  voyage.  This  done,  they  ate  again, 
slept  the  day  out,  and  in  the  night  once  more  set  forth  in  much  better  ^ 
spirits  and  condition. 

They  pulled  down  stream  till  the  city  was  passed  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  then  crossed  to  the  same  side,  and  worked  along  the  shore. 

It  was  still  fifteen  miles  to  the  mouth  of  the  bay,  and  they  were  naturally 
anxious  to  trade  their  boat  for  a large  one  before  going  out  to  sea.  But  in 
this  they  did  not  succeed.  They  fell  in  with  some  large  fish  they  could « 
not  name — possibly  porpoises — and  were  a little  afraid  of  the  damage  they 
might  do.  At  length  they  resolved,  as  it  was  nearly  day,  to  land  and 
rest  till  morning.  This  they  were  enabled  to  do,  and  in  a dense  thicket, 
took  what  they  hoped  would  be  their  last  sleep  on  shore  till  they  were 
under  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

In  a wild  orange  grove',  with  tropical  trees  around  them,  they  awoke 
the  next  morning,  cheered  and  refreshed  with  a wild  hope  stirring  in  their 
breasts. 

They  expected  great  things  that  day  ! The  beauty  of  their  surround- 
ings had  no  charm  for  them,  or  rather  they  were  too  busy  to  attend  to  it. 
As  soon  as  they  sought  their  boat  they  noticed  a singular  phenomenon. 
They  had  hidden  it  at  the  water^s  edge;  but  now  it  was  far  up  on  the 
shore  ! Wilson  was  surprised;  but  Wood  who  had  crossed  the  ocean  and^ 
knew  something  of  the  ways  of  salt  water,  told  him  that  it  was  only  the 
tide,  and  that  they  would  either  have  to  haul  the  boat  down  or  wait  some 
hours  for  the  water  to  rise.  They  preferred  the  former,  and  were  soon 
once  more  afloat. 

But  in  the  morning  light  they  looked  in  vain  for  the  white  sails  of  the 
blockading  fleet.  They  could  see  the  spires  of  the  city  far  to  the  north,< 
but  seaward  there  was  nothing  to  cheer  them.  Yet  they  bravely — in 
partial  ignorance  of  the  dangers  they  encountered — pushed  right  down  the 
bay.  The  cold  but  cooked  food  left  from  the  day  before,  had  given  them 
strength,  and  they  rowed  steadily.  They  staked  everything  on  being  able 
to  find  the  blockading  squadron.  If  they  failed  in  that,  they  were  ready 
to  die  on  the  ocean,  rather  than  go  back  to  rebel  prisons.  A fishing  boat^ 
coming  down  from  the  city  passed  not  very  far  from  them  and  caused  no 
small  degree  of  uneasiness,  but  it  did  not  care  to  meddle  with  them — or 
perhaps  they  were  so  low  in  the  water  that  they  were  not  seen  at  all.  On 
and  on  they  rowed,  right  south,  and  toward  what  seemed  to  be  the  open 
sea.  There  was  no  sign  of  ships,  and  the  waves  began  to  be  longer  and 
to  toss  them  about  in  no  small  degree.  The  land  to  the  right-  and  lett 
sunk  out  of  sight  and  nothing  but  water  was  all  round  them.  ^ 

In  a very  plain  and  matter-of-fact  manner,  as  if  there  was  notnuig*  es- 


Floating  to  the  Gulf, 


357 


pecially  remarkable  about  it,  Wilson  narrates  this  voyage  out  to  sea  in  a 
skiff  in  search  of  the  blockading  squadron.  The  venture  was  hazardous. 
^ It  was  quite  possible  for  the  ships  to  be  missed  till  night  came  on.  Or  a 
November  breeze  might  very  soon  raise  a sea  that  would  destroy  their 
frail  craft.  But  unconsciously — shall  we  not  rather  say  under  the  guid- 
ance of  a better  pilot  than  mortal  man — ^they  pushed  forward. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  long  after  they  had  been  out  of 
sight  of  land,  and  when  they  began  to  feel  somewhat  lonely  and  uneasy, 
they  saw  to  the  southward  an  island.  They  gladly  rowed  toward  it,  for  it 
» would  be  pleasanter  to  rest  upon  it,  if  they  failed  to  discover  the  blockad- 
ing squadron  in  the  few  hours  of  daylight  that  remained  to  them,  than  to 
toss  about  on  the  waves  all  the  long  night.  But  they  found  that  it  was 
much  further  away  than  they  had  supposed  and  they  had  hard  work  to 
reach  it.  The  island  seemed  to  be  small,  and  as  they  had  no  idea  of  stop- 
ping on  it  till  dark,  they  were  discussing  as  to  which  side  of  it  they  had  bet- 
^ ter  pass,  when  they  discovered  to  the  left  of  it,  and  a long  distance  away 
out  at  sea,  a few  dead  trees.  This  was  strange,  but  supposing  them  to  be 
on  some  large  island  which  would  afford  a good  place  from  which  to  seek 
the  American  ships,  they  rowed  diligently  toward  them.  Before  long  they 
found  a line  of  sand  in  the  way,  a regular  bar,  which  seemed  to  grow 
longer  as  they  got  nearer,  and  they  could  not  see  how  to  get  across  it. 
They  paddled  along  in  the  direction  which  seemed  to  lead  nearest  the 
^ dead  trees,  and  at  length  found  a narrow  passage  leading  through  it. 
They  struck  into  this,  and,  as  they  passed,  Wilson  had  another  surprise. 
For  now  Wood  was  the  leader  in  knowledge;  at  least  he  put  out  his  hand 
and  picked  up  what  looked  to  Wilson  like  a muddy,  stone,  and  with  their 
piece  of  a knife  opened  and  ate  something  out  of  it.  Wilson  got  the  in- 
side of  the  next  “stone,”  and  found  it  the  sweetest  oyster  he  had  ever 
i tasted  ! They  had  struck  an  oyster  bed;  and  were  not  in  too  great  a 
hurry  to  stop  and  make  another  feast.  These  were  wholesome  as  well 
as  delicious. 

But  as  they  were  eating,  another  glance  at  the  dead  trees  electrified 
them  with  a new  sensation,  the  most  overwhelming  of  this  glorious  day. 
There  were  smoke-stacks  among  the  trees!  The  oysters  were  dropped  in  a 
^ moment  and  with  the  vigor  of  assured  hope  they  again  set  forth,  and  it 
was  not  long  till  the  trees  took  the  shape  of  masts,  and  best  of  all,  there 
was  the  old  flag  streaming  over  them  ! 

They  stood  up  and  screamed  and  shouted  with  delight.  Wood  was 
almost  disposed  to  jump  overboard  to  swim  to  them;  but  they  considered 
it  better,  as  soon  as  their  rapture  had  moderated,  to  sit  down  and  row 
steadily  toward  the  largest.  There  were  three  of  the  ships,  and  rowing 
^ up  to  them  with  the  knowledge  that  they  were  safe  from  their  foes,  was 
one  of  the  happiest  experiences  in  their  whole  lives. 


358 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


They  were  crossing  the  bows  of  a little  gunboat  which  seemed 
almost  too  insignificant  to  be  noticed,  when  they  were  brought  too  so 
roughly  that  for  a moment  they  half  thought  that  perhaps  it  might  be  a k 
rebel  cruiser  under  false  colors.  The  officers  and  sailors  were  almost 
equally  struck  with  their  odd  appearance.  They  were  covered  with  their 
old  moss,  and  so  starved,  that  it  was  not  hard  to  make  the  commander 
believe  that  they  had  passed  through  a rough  experience.  When  wh  in 


speaking  distance, Wilson  had  to  tell  who  they  were,  and  his  story  of  being  * 
from  the  camp  of  Gen.  Mitchel — who  was  no  longer  in  Tennessee- -puz- 
zled them  still  more.  In  helping  Wood  up  the  ladder,  the  commander 
pulled  off  the  moss  with  which  he  was  covered,  and  the  nakedness  and 
emaciation  of  the  poor  fellow  excited  both  wonder  and  compassion. 

They  told  their  story,  which  made  the  commander — Lieut.  J.  F.  Cross- 
man, of  the  gunboat  Somerset — terribly  indignant  at  the  cruelties  the  4 
men  had  suffered.  With  a sailor’s  generosity  he  gave  them  every  kind- 
ness. They  received  brandy,  a good  wash,  new  clothes,  and  plenty  of 


Floatmg  to  the  Gulf. 


359 


good  food.  So  hungry  were  they  that  it  seemed  almost  impossible  “to 
get  filled  up.”  As  they  wished  to  report  the  whole  matter  to  the  War 
Department  they  asked  the  commander  to  signal  the  cruiser,  which  was 
tne  large  ship  they  had  first  seen^  and  send  them  to  Key  West.  The 
cruiser  very  appropriately  bore  the  name  of  the  Stars  a7id  Stripes. 

On  this  voyage  two  or  three  days  passed  like  days  of  paradise,  and 
then  Wilson  was  prostrated  with  fever,  the  result  of  his  terrible  expo'sure 
and  hardship,  and  for  several  days  knew  nothing  m.ore.  Then  recovering 
and  arriving  at  Key  West  he  sent  a report,  which  is  still  filed  in  the  War 
Record  office  at  Washington  under  date  of  November  12th,  of  the  whole 
expedition.  A still  fuller  account  was  published  in  the  New  Era  of  the 
15th,  and  these  are  the  first  reports  given  of  the  raid  by  any  person  en- 
gaged in  it.  These  two  were  first  of  all  the  refugees  to  arrive  at  their 
destination,  notwithstanding  their  journey  of  more  than  four  hundred 
miles. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


THE  RECAPTURED  PRISONERS. 

Though  the  story  of  those  who  were  retaken  presents  more  of 
variety  and  vicissitude  of  fortune  than  that  of  the  escaping  pris- 
oners^ yet  it  is  darkened  with  the  shadows  of  prison  life,  and  the 
continued  apprehension  of  rebel  scaffolds.  But  it  is  not  without  a bright 
side,  as  indeed  no  human  lot  is.  At  the  very  first  our  fears  were  not 
realized.  We  expected  worse  treatment  than  before — perhaps  some  of 
the  horrible  punishments  which  were  too  possible  in  the  South,  or  a 
speedy  trial  and  the  death  of  spies.  But  on  the  contrary,  the  mildest  and 
most  humane  treatment  we  received  during  our  whole  sojourn  in  the  Con- 
federacy followed.  Col.  Lee  no  longer  thought  the  jail  a safe  place,  and 
ordered  us  to  be  taken  to  the  barracks  of  the  rebel  troops,  which  were  in 
the  middle  of  the  city,  but  two  squares  from  the  depot.  Here  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  soldiers  who  had  the  exclusive  custody  of  us,  and  their 
commander  was  held  directly  responsible  for  our  safe  keeping.  Any  at- 
tempt to  escape  would  meet  with  far  greater  difficulties  than  at  the  city 
jail.  We  did  not  cease  to  discuss  the  subject  of  breaking  out,  but  the 
opinion  was  general  that  it  was  hopeless. 

The  building  was  large  and  airy,  with  full-sized  windows,  and  with 
only  one  room  in  addition  to  our  own,  devoted  to  prisoners.  These 
were  Union  people  of  Atlanta,  and  while  closely  guarded  were  not  es- 
pecially ill-treated.  Our  room  was  perhaps  twenty  feet  square  and  was 
situated  on  a corner,  with  two  windows  overlooking  the  main  street  of  the 
town,  and  two  others  opening  on  a side  street.  To  make  it  almost  a para- 
dise in  comparison  with  our  former  quarters,  it  had  a gas  burner  which 
was  kept  lighted  all  the  night  and  a large  open  fire-place  with  a generous 
hearth,  on  which  blazed  a heap  of  logs.  There  was  but  one  door  to  the 
room  and  this  was  never  shut;  a soldier  stood  continually  in  it  with  orders 
to  notice  all  that  was  going  on. 

I love  to  linger  on  the  details  of  this  prison  room,  for  when  we  were 
expecting  a dungeon  like  that  of  Chattanooga  or  death,  it  came  as  a blessed 
relief, — a place  where  we  could  rest  for  a little  time  from  the  storms  that 
had  swept  over  us.  Our  hearts  were  very  grateful  to  God  and  we  felt 
that  He  had  not  deserted  us.  To  sit  in  the  window  and  watch  the  tide  of 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners, 


361 


human  life  flowing  past  was  an  unending  delight.  Scarcely  less  pleasant 
was  it  to  gather  round  the  fire,  especially  in  the  evening,  and  watch  the 
^ play  of  the  flames.  We  carried  in  the  wood,  always  with  an  armed  guard 
for  an  attendant,  while  the  wood-pile  itself  was  guarded  carefully,  as  well 
as  every  entry  of  the  building.  In  fact  the  obstacles  to  escape  here  were 
not  bolts  and  prison  walls^  but  the  eyes  of  watchful  sentinels,  for  we  were 
always  in  the  midst  of  a little  army.  We  did  not  think  the  latter  less  of  a 
hindrance  to  escape,  but  we  well  knew  which  was  pleasanter.  We  were 
^soldiers,  and  to  be  in  the  midst  of  this  army-life  was  far  better  than  any 
prison,  though  we  would  greatly  have  preferred  another  flag! 

We  were  also  sometimes  taken  out  of  the  rooms  for  our  meals,  \vhich 
was  a grateful  change  in  the  routine  of  the  day.  It  is  true,  v/e  always 
marched  under  a strong  guard,  but  to  stand  around  a rude  board,  and 
have  the  not  very  abundant  food,  consisting  of  bread  and  meat  with  the 
addition  of  a little  soup,  placed  before  us  in  a way  that  suggested  a table, 
Vnade  this  change  very  acceptable  indeed. 

Much  of  the  improvement  in  oiir  treatment  we  attributed  to  the  Com- 
mander of  the  barracks.  Major  Wells,  or  Jack  Wells  as  he  was  familiarly 
called,  who  had  been  an  old  United  States  Army  officer.  One  of  the  tra- 
ditions of  that  service  was  to  treat  prisoners  well,  and  he  had  none  of  the 
pro-slavery  feeling,  which  in  the  South  too  frequently  over-rode  all  senti- 
jments  of  humanity.  He  would  come  around  to  our  room  and  talk  with  us 
by  the  hour — telling  us  great  stories  of  his  adventures  and  receiving  as 
great  in  return.  Very  often  he  was  half  drunk,  for  temperance  was  not 
among  his  virtues,  and  sometimes  he  did  not  stop  at  the  half-way  point. 
But  the  habits  of  a soldier  were  so  completely  grounded  in  him,  that  no 
one  could  take  advantage  of  such  occasions  to  violate  any  military  rules. 
^When  in  particularly  communicative  moods  he  v;ould  tell  us  that  he  did 
not  care  a cent  which  side  whipped — that  he  only  held  his  present  position 
to  avoid  being  conscripted.  But  his  superiors  knew  him  to  be  so  faithful 
and  vigilant,  and  he  could  so  readily  control  the  rude  mass  under  him  nt 
the  barracks,  and  enforce  so  stern  a discipline,  that  they  readily  forgave 
these  little  slips  of  the  tongue.  When  aroused  he  had  the  regular  officer’s 
sternness  in  punishing,  as  one  or  two  incidents  will  show. 

^ There  were  six  left  of  our  original  party.  These  with  the  four  pris- 
oners of  war  and  ten  Tennesseeans  made  twenty  in  all  who  were  confined 
in  this  room.  One  morning  our  provisions,  which  were  very  scanty,  were 
brought  up  in  a tray,  each  man’s  portion  being  set  by  itself.  Mr.  Pierce, — 
called  ^^Gun-barrel”  from  the  wound  in  the  head, — thought  his  portion  too 
small,  and  without  a word,  but  with  a look  of  contempt,  threw  it  back  into 
> the  tray.  In  a few  minutes  a guard  came  up  and  seized  the  old  man — he 
was  over  sixty — and  taking  him  out  into  the  cold  hall,  tied  his  hands  be- 
fore his  knees  with  a stick  over  his  arms  and  across  under  his  knees  in  a 


362 


Daring  and  Suffer  mg. 


way  soldiers  call  “bucking/’  He  was  left  there  all  night  ! We  all  felt 
very  indignant,  but  could  do  nothing. 

One  of  the  guards  was  a malicious  fellow  who  delighted  in  asking  the  ^ 
prisoners  how  they  liked  being  shut  up,  playing  checkers  with  their  noses 
on  the  windows,  etc.  Another  Tennesseean^  named  Barker, 'told  him^ 
that  he  need  not  be  so  proud  now,  for  when  the  North  conquered  them 
he  would  have  to  work  like  a slave  in  the  cotton  fields  to  help  pay  the  ex- 
penses of  the  war.  The  guard  reported  the  “treasonable”  remark  to 
Wells.  Poor  Barker  was  taken  to  a room  where  punishments  were  usually 
inflicted,  and  there  hung  up  by  the  heels  till  he  fainted;  then  taken  down  * 
till  he  revived,  and  hung  up  again;  this  being  'continued  till  they  were 
satisfied.  Then  he  was  put  in  a little  room,  with  no  light,  the  smallest  in 
the  house^  and  kept  there  with  nothing  to  eat  for  twenty-four  hours  ! 

Here  I had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  instances  of  the  iron  tyranny 
to  which  Union  men  in  the  South  were  continually  subjected — a tyranny 
which  explains  the  apparent  unanimity  shown  in  the  cause  of  secession.  4 
The  strictest  espionage  was  maintained  in  every  order  of  society.  The 
spies  of  government  would  pretend  to  be  Union  men,  and  thus  worm  them- 
selves into  the  loyal  societies  which  existed  in  Atlanta  as  well  as  in  many 
other  cities.  Clear  proof  of  disloyalty  to  the  Confederacy  was  not  needed, 
for  a strong  suspicion  would  do  as  well  when  only  a military  order  was 
needed  to  keep  a man  imprisoned  in  a horrible  dungeon  for  months.  In 
one  day,  seventy  men  and  twelve  women  were  arrested  and  sent  in  irons  ^ 
to  Richmond!  Afterward  we  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  some  of  these 
very  persons  in  that  town.  In  spite  of  this  persecution  there  existed  at 
this  time  a society  of  loyal  people  who  were  ready  to  extend  to  Union 
prisoners  all  the  help  in  their  power.  From  some  of  them  I received — as 
did  many  of  the  other  prisoners — supplies  of  money  and  other  needed 
articles  which  were  of  the  greatest  value.  This  help  was  given  at  great  ' 
personal  risk  to  the  donors,  for  to  give  a Union  soldier  money  was  con- 
sidered a serious  offense.  One  man  who  was  in  the  opposite  room,  and 
with  whom  we  managed  to  hold  some  communication,  had  been  in  prison 
for  four  months  on  the  suspicion  of  having  given  some  help  to  a few  of 
the  Shiloh  prisoners  who  were  taken  to  Atlanta.  A physician  named 
Scott  visited  us  on  the  plea  of  mere  curiosity,  and  on  learning  that  if  we  ^ 
wanted  a doctor  they  would  allow  one  to  be  sent  for,  we  managed  to  get 
him  into  our  room  and  talk  with  him  a little.  He  gave  me  some  money 
to  be  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  party,  which  was  of  great  service.  A 
year  afterward  when  I found  him  a fugitive  in  the  North,  I was  able  to 
partially  repay  the  favor  by  vouching  for  his  loyalty,  and  putting  him  in 
the  way  of  gaining  a livelihood. 

A little  further  lightening  of  my  own  confinement  came  about  in  a very 
singular  manner.  I was  making  some  short-hand  notes  on  the  margin  of 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners, 


363 


a book  one  day,  when  Wells  walked  quietly  into  the  room  and  saw  me  at 
work  before  I noticed  him.  I feared  that  he  might  be  displeased^  and 
take  the  book  from  me,  but  it  was  too  late  to  retreat,  and  I wrote  on.  He 
watched  for  some  time  with  great  seeming  interest.  What  kind  of  crow- 
tracks  are  you  making  there  ?’^  he  asked.  I explained  as  well  as  I could, 
and  showed  him  particular  words  that  I wrote.  He  then  wanted  to  know 
why  I was  writing.  I did  not  think  it  safe  to  tell  him  that  I was  making 
notes  in  the  hope  that  they  might  be  useful  some  day,  and  therefore  told 
him  a part  only  of  the  truth;  that  I wrote  to  pass  the  time,  as  I had  more 
of  it  on  my  hands  than  I knew  what  to  do  with.  I then  read  him  a few 
isolated  sentences  which  did  not  strike  him  as  having  any  treason  in  them, 
and  he  left  me  indulging  the  hope  that  nothing  bad  would  come  out  of  his 
discovery.  I did  not  wish  to  give  up  the  little  book  in  which  I was  writ- 
ing, but  as  a precaution  copied  some  of  the  notes  into  another  place. 

The  next  day  he  came  again,  seemingly  in  a very  pleasant  humor,  talked 
cordially  with  different  members  of  our  party,  and  then  turning  to  me 
asked  if  I would  be  willing  to  do  some  writing  for  him?  I said  I would, 
very  gladly,  if  it  was  for  him  only,  but  I did  not  wish  to  do  any  for  the 
Confederacy.  He  laughed  at  the  distinction,  and  asked  me  to  go  into 
his  office.  There  he  showed  me  the  report  he  had  to  make  each  day  of 
the  number  of  prisoners,  and  the  rations  drawn  for  them  as  well  as  the 
requisitions.  The  blanks  were  not  very  well  filled,  for  he  was  not  a good 
clerk.  I asked  him  why  he  did  not  have  some  of  the  soldiers  do  the  work. 
He  answered  in  terms  very  uncomplimentary  to  them,  and  it  was  a fact 
that  literary  ability  was  not  as  common  in  the  Southern  army  as  in  the 
Northern.  I could  not  see  that  my  making  out  this  return  daily  would 
do  any  harm  to  the  United  States,  while  it  might  be  the  means  of  giving 
me  valuable  knowledge  or  even  of  effecting  the  escape  of  myself  and  com- 
rades. The  work  was  nothing — I would  rather  do  it  than  not;  but  I told 
him  that  I could  not  make  out  such  a sheet  properly  without  the  use  of 
desk,  paper,  rulers,  etc.  He  said  that  I should  have  them,  and  could  come 
right  into  his  office  for  the  purpose.  This  was  exactly  what  I wanted,  but 
the  boon  was  not  as  great  as  I hoped,  for  he  went  to  the  sentry  at  the  door 
of  the  prison  room  and  instructed  him  to  let  me  pass  to  the  office  when  I 
wished,  but  nowhere  else;  another  sentinel  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
entry  within  a musket-length  of  the  office  door  was  told  to  watch  that  I 
never  passed  further  than  the  office.  In  short  all  the  guards  were  in- 
formed of  the  new  arrangement  and  charged  to  watch  me  especially  ! 
This  did  not  leave  me  much  chance  for  getting  away,  but  it  was  possible 
•that  their  vigilance  would  relax  with  time,  while  it  was  certainly  pleasant 
occasionally  to  change  from  the  prison  room  to  the  office  and  to  get  many 
an  item  of  intelligence  which  I could  carry  back  to  my  comrades.  But 
this  work  gaye  me  the  heartfelt  pleasure  of  helping  a man  to  escape  death. 


3^4 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


While  writing  in  the  office  one  day,  a person  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a 
rebel  officer  was  brought  in  for  confinement  in  the  barracks.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  very  drunk,  but  remonstrated  so  hard  against  being  put  in 
the  room  where  the  remainder  of  the  rebel  prisoners  were  kept,  that  Wells 
consented  to  let  him  stay  for  a time  in  the  office,  especially  as  regular 
charges  were  not  yet  brought  in  against  him.  He  was  carefully  examined, 
but  when  his  money  was  taken  he  was  so  furious  that  Wells,  first  showing 
me  how  heavy  it  was,  for  there  were  some  five  hundred  dollars  in  gold, 
allowed  him  to  retain  it.  He  was  very  drunk,  and  Wells,  in  the  absence 
of  other  charges,  supposed  that  he  was  arrested  only  for  that — an  offense 
with  which  he  had  a great  deal  of  sympathy.  Soon  after  Wells  went  out 
to  attend  to  some  business,  leaving  Sergeant  White  with  us.  He  too 
soon  went  out  and  I was  alone  with  the  drunken  officer.  Of  course  there 
was  a sentinel  in  the  entry,  not  a dozen  feet  away.  I was  busy  writing,  but 
looking  up  I saw  the  stranger  approaching  me.  There  was  no  trace  of 
drunkenness  about  him.  I watched  his  movements  attentively.  Soon  he 
was  standing  by  me. 

“ You  are  a prisoner.' 

I nodded  assent. 

“ One  they  call  ‘ engine-thieves,’  he  continued. 

I answered  in  the  affirmative. 

“I  know  you, said  he.  “I  know  all  about  you.  I was  here  when 
your  comrades  were  hung.  Brave  men  they  were,  and  the  cruel  deed  will 
yet  be  avenged.  I am  not  afraid  to  trust  you.  They  do  not  yet  know 
who  I am,  but  they  will  ‘learn  to-morrow,  and  then  if  I am  still  in  their 
hands  I must  die,  for  I am  a spy  from  the  Federal  army,  CanT  you  help 
me  to  escape  ? ” 

I was  astonished  at  this  revelation,  and  for  a moment  doubted  his 
story,  and  his  object — thinking  he  might  wish  to  betray  me  for  a selfish 
advantage.  I put  a few  hasty  questions  to  him  to  test  his  knowledge  of 
the  Federal  army.  The  answers  were  satisfactory.  I hesitated  no  longer, 
but  determined  to  help  him  if  in  my  power. 

What  can  I do  for  you  ? 

He  answered,  “ Can’t  you  write  me  a pass  and  sign  the  Commander’s 
name  to  it  ? ” 

“ That  would  hardly  do  you  any  good,”  I said,  “ for  it  would  probably 
be  detected.  I think  I can  put  you  on  a better  plan.  Take  that  over- 
coat,” pointing  to  one  belonging  to  Wells  that  was  lying  on  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  “ put  it  around  you,  and  just  walk  past  the  guard  as  indepen- 
dently as  if  you  owned  the  entire  establishment.  It  is  now  nearly  dark, 
and  the  chances  are  that  you  will  not  be  halted  by  the  guard  at  all,” 

“A  good  idea,”  said  he;  I’ll  try  it,” 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners.  365 

At  once  folding  himself  in  the  coat  he  bade  me  a hurried  but  grateful 
adieu. 

Eagerly  I sat  in  the  deepening  twilight,  listening  for  any  sound  that 
might  betray  the  success  or  failure  of  the  scheme.  But  all  was  silence. 
I have  since  learned  that  the  guard,  seeing  the  familiar  coat,  supposed  of 
course  that  the  owner  was  in  it  and  allowed  it  to  pass  unchallenged. 

I have  often  been  asked  why,  if  I could  help  another  man  off  in  this 
manner,  I did  not  avail  myself  of  the  same  opportunity.  The  circum- 
stances were  very  different.  I had  no  thought  of  it  at  all  till  it  came  as  a 
sudden  inspiration,  when  the  man  asked  for  help.  Besides,  I was  espec- 
ially watched,  and  was  several  inches  taller  than  the  officer  and  the  com- 
mander, much  more  slender,  and  always  wore  my  glasses,  without  which 
I would  have  been  helpless.  If  all  these  obstacles  had  been  surmounted, 
I would  not  have  been,  like  this  officer,  dressed  in  rebel  uniform,  with  abun- 
dance of  money,  but  destitute  and  nearly  naked.  The  chances  were  in 
every  way  a hundred  to  one  in  his  favor. 

A moment  after  Sergeant  White  came  in,  and  I engaged  him  in  conver- 
sation, inducing  him  to  tell  some  good  stories  to  keep  him  from  missing 
my  companion,  and  to  allow  him  as  much  time  for  a start  as  possible,  be- 
fore the  inevitable  alarm  was  given.  I succeeded  perfectly  for  five 
minutes,  for  he  did  not  make  the  least  inquiry,  probably  thinking,  if  he 
gave  the  matter  any  thought,  that  Wells  had  taken  him  over  to  his  natural 
place  in  the  barrack-room  opposite.  Then  Wells  entered,  and  throwing 
an  uneasy  glance  around,  exclaimed  at  once, 

“ Sergeant,  where  is  that  officer?’* 

The  sergeant  protested  that  he  knew  nothing  about  him;  that  he  was 
not  in  the  room  when  White  entered. 

Wells  then  turned  to  me  and  demanded, 

‘‘  Pittenger,  where  is  that  officer?” 

“What  officer?’^ 

“ That  officer  I put  in  here.’^ 

“ Oh  ! that  drunken  fellow  ? ” 

“Yes;  where  is  he  ? ” 

“ The  last  I saw  of  him  he  picked  up  his  coat,  and  said  he  was  going 
to  supper.” 

“Going  to  supper,  was  he!  Ho!  I see  it!  Sergeant,  run  to  the 
guard,  and  tell  them  that  if  they  let  him  out  I will  have  every  one  of 
them  hung  up  by  the  heels.” 

This  was  rather  a useless  punishment  considering  that  the  prisoner  was 
already  far  away. 

But' the  sergeant  departed  to  muster  the  guard.  Shortly  after  Wells, 
who  had  resumed  his  seat,  said  in  a meditative  tone, 

“Had  he  a coat?” 


366 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


I suppose  so,  sir,'’  I returned,  “ or  he  would  not  have  taken  it,’’ 

Where  did  he  get  it  ? 

Off  the  foot  of  that  bed."  ^ 

Wells  sprang  to  his  feet  as  quickly  as  if  a serpent  had  bit  him,  kicking 
over  the  chair  on  which  he  had  been  sitting,  and  exclaimed:  ' ^ 

My  coat,  sure  as ! worth  eighty  dollars  ! The  villain  ! " Wells 

pressed  his  hands  to  his  head  and  sat  down  again;  then,  as  if  thinking  better 
of  it,  he  ejaculated,  “ Well  ! if  that  is  not  a cool  joke,^'  and  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh  which  ended  the  scene. 

While  here  we  secured  the  most  delicious  article  of  diet  we  had  yet 
received  in  the  South.  Sweet  potatoes  were  cheap  and  very  abundant 
now,  and  the  money  kindly  given  by  Union  men  sufficed  to  buy  a consid- 
erable quantity.  These  we  roasted  in  the  ashes  of  the  open  fire  that  made 
our  room  so  comfortable,  and  if  there  is  any  thing  more  palatable  than 
these  potatoes  were,  I have  not  found  it.  But  for  the  want  of  clothes  and 
the  opportunity  of  being  clean,  and  the  vermin  which  it  was  impossible  to  t 
banish  in  any  of  these  prisons, we  might  have  been  reasonably  comfortable. 

We  still  continued  our  devotions  morning  and  evening.  The  fact  that 
the  door  was  open,  so  that  we  had  no  privacy  at  all,  and  that  a guard  was 
always  looking  on,  did  seem  like  a hindrance  at  first,  but  in  time  we  grew 
used  to  it.  A few  of  our  own  number  seemed  to  think  that  now  we  were 
not  in  a dark  cell,  and  were  treated  more  as  regular  prisoners,  there  was  ^ 
no  need  of  so  much  prayer.  But  the  majority  clung  to  the  good  resolu- 
tions made  in  darker  hours.  When  one  of  the  guards  once  interrupted  us 
with  coarse  remarks  we  appealed  to  Wells,  and  he  stood  our  friend; 
saying  that  he  did  not  like  praying  himself  and  would  stay  away  from  it, 
but  if  we  could  get  any  good  out  of  it  we  were  welcome,  and  the  guards 
should  not  interfere.  Thus  we  were  enabled  to  pass  many  hours  most 
pleasantly  and  profitably.  ' 

But  our  friend  MacDonell  came  no  more.  When  taken  back  to  our 
prison  room  after  the  flight,  I tore  up  the  note  I had  written  to  him,  fin- 
ished reading  the  books  we  had,  and  returning  them,  asked  for  more. 
But  they  did  not  come,  nor  did  he  ever  enter  our  prison  again.  Two 
reasons  were  sufficient  to  account  for  this.  The  Provost  Marshal  was 
disposed  to  attribute  the  success  of  our  effort  in  breaking  from  the  jail  < 
to  outside  aid;  and  those  who  were  very  friendly  would  more  likely  be 
suspected  than  any  others.  It  might  not  be  safe  for  MacDonell  to  come 
to  us  again  for  awhile;  besides  his  term  for  serving  that  church  in  Atlanta 
was  nearly  ended,  and  removal  is  an  event  in  a Methodist  preacher’s  life 
which  for  some  weeks  overshadows  everything  else. 

But  as  I knew  nothing  of  this  and  he  did  not  come,  I resolved  to  go  ^ 
to  him.  Accordingly  I asked  Wells  to  send  a guard  with  me  to  go  to 
see  a preacher.  I might  as  well  have  some  indulgence  for  the  amount  of 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners. 


367 


help  I was  giving  him  as  not.  He  asked  me  a good  many  questions  and 
made  me  tell  the  whole  story  of  our  acquaintance,  but  then  consented, 
and  ordered  a soldier  to  take  me  to  the  minister’s  house  and  not  to  let  me 
get  out  of  his  sight  for  a moment;  to  treat  me  well,  but  to  promptly  shoot 
me  if  I tried  to  run  away.  Then  he  made  me,  in  addition,  promise  that  I 
would  make  no  effort  to  escape. 

Thus  I set  forth  through  the  streets  of  Atlanta  guarded  by  07ily  one 
man  ! It  did  seem  almost  tempting  Providence  to  go  forth  in  this  unsafe 
manner,  and  as  I gazed  at  the  soldier,  it  looked  an  easy  thing  to 
take  the  musket  from  him  and  march  off.  He  imagined  that  he  was 
keeping  me  most  safely  by  being  close  to  me;  the  very  position  in  which 
his  musket  would  have  given  him  no  advantage.  But  I resisted  the  im- 
pulse as  I had  no  intention  of  trying  to  escape  on  this  occasion. 

I felt  a good  deal  ashamed  on  entering  the  fine  parlor  of  Mr.  Mac- 
Donell  in  such  shabby  dress  and  with  the  armed  guard  behind  me,  but  the 
kindness  of  his  reception  put  me  at  ease  and  we  talked  for  quite  a long 
time.  I tried  to  make  him  understand  how  grateful  I was  for  all  his  kind- 
ness, and  gave  him  my  copy  of  Pilgrini  s Progress,  with  an  inscription,  as 
the  only  remembrance  in  my  power,  informing  him  of  my  resolution  to 
devote  myself  to  the  ministry  in  case  my  life  should  be  spared.  He 
prayed  for  me  most  fervently  and  we  parted.  He  promised  to  come  to 
see  us  in  the  prison  again,  but  we  were  shortly  moved  away,  and  I have 
seen  him  no  more,  though  since  peace  came  we  have  often  exchanged 
letters. 

An  effort  was  made  at  this  time  to  get  some  of  us  to  enlist  in  the  rebel 
army.  Whether  our  party  would  have  been  included  we  could  not  tell, 
and  had  no  desire  to  provoke  an  investigation,  though  at  an  earlier  period 
we  would  have  been  delighted  with  the  opportunity.  But  others  were 
strongly  urged,  especially  the  two  regular  soldiers.  These,  with  the  two 
from  the  loth  Wisconsin,  were  still  with  us,  and  it  did  seem  as  if  they  were 
being  held  simply  for  our  sake.  Yet  this  was  scarcely  worth  while  any 
longer,  for  it  was  certain  that  if  any  of  our  number  escaped,  they  would 
carry  the  news  of  our  adventures  through  the  lines.  These  four  were, 
however,  kept  with  us  for  some  time  longer.  One  of  the  regulars.  Geo. 
W.  Walton,  became  a great  friend  of  mine,  and  contributed  not  a little  to 
lighten  the  dreary  days  we  still  had  to  endure. 

At  length  we  heard  what  seemed  to  us  fearful  news — a new  court- 
martial  was  ordered  ! We  waited  the  result  with  the  greatest  anxiety, 
and  my  comrades  charged  me  to  try  all  I possibly  could  to  get  from  Wells 
any  intimation  of  an  intention,  if  such  should  exist,  to  try  us.  In  case 
anything  of  that  kind  occurred  we  were  resolved  to  make  an  effort  for 
freedom  even  if  the  result  would  only  be  to  die  with  muskets  in  our  hands. 
That  would  have  been  almost  inevitable.  We  could  capture  the  three 


368 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


guards — one  at  our  door^  one  in  the  entry^  and  one  at  the  head  of  iht 
stairs;  but  not  less  than  twenty  were  in  reserve  in  the  guard  room,  and 
the  whole  building  was  surrounded  with  soldiers  constantly  on  their  beat. 
We  could  only  have  had  the  six  of  us  to  count  on,  for  none  of  the  other 
prisoners  would  make  such  an  attempt;  but  we  would  have  preferred 
dying  in  this  manner  to  being  led  powerless  to  the  scaffold.  A week  of 
sickening  suspense  passed  and  no  summons  came  for  us.  Then  the 
court  adjourned  and  we  breathed  easier.  It  seemed  as  if  they  did  not 
intend  to  persecute  the  feeble  remnant  of  our  party  any  further,  and  we 
passed  from  the  extreme  of  fear  to  that  of  hope.  We  began  now  to  talk 
of  exchange,  as  if  that  was  the  most  probable  ending  for  us. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  inquire  whether  the  alarm  under  which  we 
were  led  to  break  out  of  the  jail  was  well  grounded,  or  a mere  scare.  At 
the  time  we  had  no  doubt.  To  escape  or  die  was  the  dread  alternative  we 
saw.  To  the  present  day,  nearly  if  not  quite  all  of  our  number  are  per- 
fectly convinced  that  it  was  only  this  bold  attempt  that  saved  the  life  of 
a single  member  of  the  party.  The  chain  of  evidence  was  very  strong,  as 
previously  stated,  and  until  recently  I did  think  that  we  would  at  least 
have  been  summoned  before  a court-martial,  and  to  us  this  had  but  one 
meaning.  But  since  examining  so  many  of  the  records  I am  disposed  to 
doubt  whether  anything  had  been  discovered  that  would  have  led  to  a new 
trial.  It  was  weeks  after  the  escape  before  any  court  met,  and  then  no’ 
one  of  our  party  was  summoned  before  it,  which  would  have  been  the 
most  natural  course  if  information  was  their  aim.  In  Cob  Lee’s  report 
of  the  escape,  he  still  complains  of  a want  of  knowledge  in  regard  to  the 
facts  of  our  case.  But  he  says  nothing  about  the  summoning  any  court. 
The  regular  soldiers  in  the  front  room,  from  whom  came  the  most  alarm- 
ing reports,  were  very  anxious  that  we  should  attempt  to  escape  and  suc- 
ceed, though  they  had  determined  beforehand,  as  we  learned  afterward, 
not  to  go  with  us;  but  they  were  anxious  to  be  separated  from  us,  believ- 
ing that  they  would  then  be  exchanged.  But  the  strongest  evidence  is  the 
simple  fact  we  were  not  tried.  There  had  not  been  time  for  any  repre- 
sentations from  our  government  to  be  made.  Possibly  our  enemies  were 
weary  of  following  us  further.  But  it  is  on  the  other  hand  sure  that 
charges  against  us  were  not  dropped,  and  we  were  not  treated  as  ordinary 
prisoners  of  war,  t 

The  weeks  rolled  by.  Few  things  occurred  worthy  of  note.  The 
same  monotony  which  makes  prison  life  so  dreadful  robs  it  of  interest 
when  recorded.  We  would  rise  in  the  morning  from  our  hard  beds,  which 
consisted  of  a few  fragments  of  carpet,  with  our  shoes  and  coats  for  pillows, 
and  wash  ourselves — for  we  had  that  great  privilege  here — pouring  the 
water  over  each  other’s  hands;  then  eat  our  scanty  breakfast;  then  put  in 
the  dreary  forenoon  as  best  we  could.  We  no  longer  had  the  regular  em- 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners, 


369 


ployment  which  had  marked  our  life  in  the  jail.  When  dinner-time  came 
we  would  eat  eitrier  in  our  own  room  or  taken  out  by  the  guard  to  the 
I common  mess-room,  which  we  much  preferred;  then  read  or  talk,  sit 
round  the  fire,  roast  potatoes  or  do  anything  else  that  could  be  found  till 
dark.  Then  the  gas  was  lit — not  for  our  benefit,  but  that  the  guard  might 
see  that  we  were  working  no  plot  for  escape.  This  hour,  as  in  the  jail, 
was  the  most  pleasant  of  the  day.  Then  came  prayers,  and  with  the  dull 
fire  light  and  the  brighter  gas,  we  again  lay  down  to  sleep. 

Thus  days  glided  into  weeks  and  weeks  into  months.  The  golden 
^ hues  of  autumn  deepened  into  the  sombreness  and  death  of  early  winter, 
and  still  we  were  in  Atlanta  barracks.  Our  v/eak  faith  could  scarcely  con- 
ceive that  we  should  ever  be  anywhere  else!  A mental  and  spiritual 
numbness,  like  that  which  follows  the  long-continued  infliction  of  physi- 
cal pain,  took  possession  of  us.  We  almost  ceased  to  hope! 

But  at  the  close  of  November  there  was  a startling  change — a day  of 
I rejoicing!  A number  of  officers  came  up  to  the  barracks  and  inquired 
for  the  room  occupied  by  the  Yankees.  On. being  shown  to  our  room  they 
called  us  all  into  line  and  said,  with  great  manifestations  of  friendliness, 
that  they  had  glad  news  for  us: 

You  have  all  been  exchanged,  and  all  that  now  remains  is  for  us  to 
send  you  out  of  our  territory. 

^ Then  they  came  along  the  line  and  shook  hands  with  us,  offering  us 
congratulations,  and  wishing  us  a safe  journey  home. 

These  were  some  of  the  leading  officers  of  Atlanta,  and  we  could  not 
doubt.  I am  now  disposed  to  think  that  they  believed  what  they  told  us. 
The  correspondence  about  exchange  in  the  War  archives  shows  that  at 
this  time  arrangements  were  in  progress  to  bring  to  Richmond  the  pris- 
oners scattered  through  various  parts  of  the  Confederacy  for  exchange. 
^ The  only  fault  with  which  our  visitors  can  therefore  fairly  be  charged,  is 
that  they  spoke  as  if  that  was  already  accomplished  which  they  simply 
believed  would  be  done. 

But  we  had  no  doubts,  and  our  feelings  may  be  better  imagined  than 
described.  There  was  an  overwhelming  rush  of  emotions  too  deep  for  utter- 
ance. We  were  very  happy,  but  there  was  a deep  undertone  of  sorrow. 
I Oh  ! if  our  seven  comrades  had  only  been  with  us  to  share  the  joy  of  this 
unexpected  deliverance  ! And  we  were  uneasy  about  the  eight  who  had 
fled.  Of  only  two  had  we  heard  anything,  though  we  had  tried  every 
source  of  information.  From  a rebel  paper  containing  an  extract  from 
the  Cincinnati  Co7nmercial,  which  I had  seen  in  the  office  of  Wells,  we 
learned  that  Wollam  and  Porter  had  arrived  at  Corinth  in  almost  starv- 
^ ing  condition.  Of  the  others  we  had  no  reliable  information.  Lee  had 
told  us  that  three  of  them  had  been  killed  in  the  woods,  but  we  could  not 
24 


370 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


meet  any  soldiers  who  had  done  the  killing,  or  had  seen  them  dead^  and 
we  doubted.  This  suspense  had  caused  us  many  unhappy  hours. 

But  when  all  allowance  was  made  for  these  things,  the  prospect  of  i 
gaining  our  liberty  was  enough  to  make  our  hearts  overflow  with  gratitude  . 
to  Almighty  God  for  his  wondrous  mercy.  I was  so  agitated  that  when^ 
Wells  asked  me  to  write  the  requisition  for  rations  for  our  journey,  I was 
not  able,  and  had  to  transfer  the  work  to  more  steady  hands.  It  was  in 
the  forenoon  that  we  received  the  news,  and  we  were  to  start  for  home, — 
via  Richmond, — at  seven  the  same  evening. 

We  spent  the  intervening  time  in  arranging  what  clothing  we  had — ^ 
little  enough — and  preparing  for  the  journey.  As  the  time  drew  near  we 
rejoiced  over  the  prospect,  but  were  not  without  a little  of  that  strange  re- 
luctance to  leave  a familiar  place  which  has  so  often  been  considered  one 
of  the  marvels  of  human  experience.  W'e  lit  the  gas  and  built  a roaring 
Are,  the  ruddy  blaze  of  which  was  itself  an  emblem  of  cheerfulness,  and 
took  a farewell  view  of  the  place  where  we  had  spent  so  many  not  unhappy  i 
hours.  Often  afterward  did  we  think  of  that  bright  fire  and  still  brighter 
hour  of  expectation  during  the  cold  and  dreary  months  that  we  were  still 
doomed  to  suffer. 

We  had  here  quite  a number  of  pieces  of  carpet  which  served  us  very 
well  for  blankets,  but  we  were  forbidden  to  take  them  along;  being  told 
that  we  were  going  where  good  blankets  were  made,  and  would  soon  have  ^ 
plenty.  We  managed,  however,  to  secrete  two  very  small  pieces,  which 
were  afterward  of  the  greatest  use.  I had  one  article  of  dress  in  which  I 
took  a good  deal  of  pride — a very  fine  hat.  Nearly  every  other  part  of 
my  apparel  had  been  worn  out  long  before.  But  one  day,  when  he  was 
somewhat  intoxicated,  Wells  was  pleased  with  the  neat  look  of  a report  I 
had  made  out  for  him,  and  showed  his  approval  in  a characteristic  fashion. 

He  made  a grab  at  my  cap  and  threw  it  on  the  floor,  saying  that  I was  ' 
too  good  a man  to  wear  a cap  like  that,  and  putting  his  own  hat,  a soft, 
new  felt  of  finest  quality  on  my  head,  said,  “ Wear  that.’'  I could  afford 
to  let  him  have  his  way  in  the  matter,  though  I did  not  suppose  the  trade 
was  to  be  permanent,  and  therefore,  when  he  was  gone,  carefully  gathered 
up  and  secreted  the  old  cap,  expecting  that  he  would  take  the  hat.  I was 
almost  sure  he  would  before  we  left  for  Richmond,  but  had  no  disposition  % 
to  call  his  attention  to  it. 

All  was  now  in  readiness,  and  we  took  our  last  look  at  Atlanta — as  a 
rebel  town.  We  were  not  tied  for  the  first  time  in  our  removals.  This  ' 
was  truly  remarkable  and  afforded  strong  confirmation  of  our  hopes.  The 
guards  fell  in  on  each  side  of  us  and  we  wended  our  silent  way  along  the 
dark  streets.  Wells,  drunker  than  usual,  accompanied  us  to  the  cars,  ^ 
where  he  hiccoughed  an  affectionate  farewell — and  did  not  ask  me  for 
his  hat ! Sergeant  White,  who  was  with  me  when  the  spy  escaped,  com- 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners, 


371 


manded  our  escort,  and  we  could  not  have  had  a more  agreeable  com- 
panion. Like  his  superior  he  cared  little  which  side  came  out  best  in  the 
war,  so  long  as  he  was  not  hurt  ! There  were  but  ten  guards,  while  with 
the  Tennesseeans  we  were  twenty, — a great  falling  off  from  former  precau- 
tions. We  were  crowded  into  box-cars,  and  began  to  suffer  severely 
with  cold,  for  the  night  air  was  most  piercing.  It  was  now  the  3rd  ol 
December,  and  we  had  nothing  but  our  ragged  spring  clothing — not  a sin- 
gle article  of  any  kind— always  excepting  my  hat  ! — having  been  supplied 
by  the  Confederates.  I had  also  the  well-worn  coat  left  by  Capt.  Fry, 
without  which  I could  scarcely  have  endured  the  journey.  At  three 
o’clock  in  the  morning  we  arrived  at  Dalton,  from  which  place  we  were  to 
change  to  the  road  direct  to  Cleveland.  We  were  not  to  go  through 
Chattanooga,  and  I saw  that  famous  town  no  more  for  a score  of  years. 
The  stars  were  sparkling  in  light  and  frosty  brilliancy  when  we  stopped. 
The  other  train  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  as  we  stood  on  the  platform  the 
keen  icy  wind  seemed  to  cut  through  us.  We  could  find  no  relief  from 
its  piercing  breath  and  shivered  for  an  hour,  when  the  other  train  arrived, 
and  finding  it  a little  more  comfortable  we  managed  to  doze  away  the 
time  till  daybreak. 

In  the  morning  we  found  that  there  was  hardly  enough  of  our  three 
days^  rations,  which  were  to  last  us  to  Richmond,  for  breakfast.  We  ate 
what  there  was,  hoping  to  be  able  to  buy  more  with  the  remnant  of  money 
given  us  by  our  Union  friends  of  Atlanta.  When  that  was  all  spent  w^e 
had  another  resource  that  never  failed — the  endurance  of  hunger  ! 

During  the  day  we  quietly  discussed  the  question  whether  it  would 
not  be  best  at  night-fall  to  try  to  make  our  escape,  as  we  were  now  within 
forty  miles  of  our  own  lines.  It  would  not  be  difficult,  for  the  guards 
were  careless  and  we  could  at  any  instant  have  taken  more  than  half  the 
guns.  They  sat  on  the  same  seats  with  us  and  slept.  Frequently  those 
guarding  the  doors  would  fall  asleep,  and  we  would  wake  them  as  the  cor- 
poral came  on  his  rounds,  thus  saving  them  from  punishment.  The  most 
complete  security  prevailed  with  them,  showing  that  they  were*  sure  that 
they  were  taking  us  for  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  exchange.  Once 
Sergeant  White  laughingly  told  us  that  we  could  escape  if  we  tried,  for  we 
had  the  matter  in  our  own  hands;  but  that  he  thought  it  would  be  more 
pleasant  for  us  to  ride  around,  than  to  walk  across  the  country  on  our  own 
responsibility.  This  very  security  lulled  our  fears  and  made  us  the 
readier  to  believe  what  had  been  told  us  in  Atlanta.  There  were  formi- 
dable difficulties  in  the  way  of  escape,  outside,  in  the  terrible  task  of  trying 
to  travel  almost  naked- and  barefoot  over  the  rough  mountains,  and  in  the 
snow  which  now  began  to  appear. 

In  the  afternoon  we  passed  the  beautiful  village  of  Knoxville,  with  its 
sad  memories  of  the  court-martial,  where  we  had  been  so  terribly  deceived, 


372 


Daring  and  Sujfering, 


and  then  the  town  of  Greenville,  which  we  noticed  as  being  the  home  of 
our  heroic  companion,  Captain  Fry;  then  into  the  lower  part  of  Virginia. 

It  was  nightfall  when  we  entered  this  State,,  and  a beautiful  night  it  4 
was.  The  moon  shone  over  the  pale  cold  hills  with  a silver  radiance 
which  made  the  whole  landscape  enchanting.  On,  on,  we  glided,  over 
hill  and  plain,  and  leaning  back  in  the  car  seat,  with  the  guards  and  most 
of  my  comrades  asleep  around,  I seemed  to  see  in  the  shifting  scenery  of 
the  unreal-looking  panorama  without,  a type  of  the  fleeting  visions  of 
human  life — like  us,  now  lost  in  some  dark  and  gloomy  wood,  or  walled  in 
by  the  encroaching  mountain  side,  and  now  revealing  a magnificent  view  ^ 
of  undulating  landscapes  far  away  in  the  shadowy  distance.  Thus  through 
the  silent  night  we  journeyed  on,  and  morning  dawned  on  us  still  steam- 
ing through  the  romantic  valleys  of  Virginia. 

But  there  soon  came  a change  in  the  weather  that  added  very  much  to 
our  discomfort.  The  day  became  wet  and  dreary.  Our  car  leaked,  the 
fire  went  out,  and  all  day  we  -had  nothing  to  eat.  At  length  the  miserable  i 
day  wore  to  the  evening,  and  found  us  at  Lynchburg,  which  is  literally  a 
city  set  on  a hill.  Here  we  discovered  that  we  had  missed  connection, 
and  would  have  to  lay  over  for  twenty-four  hours.  We  were  very  sorry  to 
hear  this,  for  though  the  journey  had  come  to  be  intensely  disagreeable, 
we  were  in  a great  hurry  to  get  to  our  own  lines,  and  had  been  talking  all 
the  way  about  what  we  should  do  in  Washington.  But  there  was  no  help  ^ 
for  it,  and  we  marched  up  to  the  great  empty  barracks  with  as  good  a 
grace  as  possible.  * 

We  found  an  immense  room  in  which  was  gathered  some  of  the  refuse 
of  the  Confederate  army, — prisoners  for  various  infractions  of  Confederate 
law.  There  was  a great  stove  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  but  as  it  had  no  fire, 
it  was  not  so  welcome  to  us  in  our  wet  and  chilly  state  as  it  might  have  been 
made.  We  resigned  ourselves  to  another  night  of  freezing,  with  the  con-  ' 
soling  thought  that  we  would  not  have  many  more  of  such  to  spend.  I 
was  always  sensitive  to  cold,  and  therefore  could  sleep  but  little;  so  I 
paced  the 'floor  till  nearly  morning  and  witnessed  a good  many  amusing 
incidents.  Some  of  the  Confederates  were  drunk  enough  to  be  disposed 
to  mischief.  One  of  them  diverted  himself  by  walking  around  on  the 
prostrate  forms  of  those  who  wanted  to  sleep.  Soon  he  came  to  Ben-  t 
singer,  of  our  party.  He  endured  the  infliction  patiently  the  first  time; 
but  as  the  drunkard  came  the  second  time,  Bensinger  was  on  the  lookout, 
and  springing  up,  planted  a blow  on  his  ear  that  not  only  laid  him  out, 
but  disposed  him  to  be  quiet  for  the  rest  of  the  night ! Sorne  of  his  com- 
rades rushed  forward  to  resent  the  well-deserved  punishment;  but  when 
they  saw  the  company  that  gathered  around  Bensinger,  they  concluded  to  ^ 
press  the  matter  no  fuither. 

In  this  Virginia  prison  we  met  tlie  most  determined  and  bitter  rebels 


The  Recaptured  Prisoners, 


373 


we  had  yet  seen.  One  prisoner  said  that  he  had  long  advocated  raising 
the  black  flag,  declaring  that  if  it  had  been  done  at  first,  the  war  would 
long  since  have  been  over.  I .assented,  adding  that  the  whole  Southern 

* race  would  have  been  exterminated  in  a short  time.  This  way  of  ending 
the  war  had  not  entered  his  mind,  and  now  he  did  not  enjoy  the  sugges- 
tion. 

All  the  next  day  continued  cold  and  gloomy.  About  noon  we  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  wood  for  the  big  stove  with  permission  to  light  a fire, 
and  a genial  glow  was  gradually  diffused  over  the  room  in  time  to  warm 

# us  thoroughly  before  we  started  for  Richmond. 

From  this  point  to  a junction  we  had  good  cars,  the  most  comfortable 
we  had  yet  enjoyed.  But  in  a little  while  we  were  obliged  to  leave  them, 
and  as  the  other  train  had  not  yet  arrived,  we  built  a large  fire  to  defend 
us  against  the  bitter  cold.  We  were  allowed  to  assist  in  gathering  wo,od, 
and  even  went  some  little  distance  into  the  dark  woods  after  fuel.  Not 
^ to  escape  under  such  circumstances  seemed  almost  a sin;  if  so,  we  repented 
it  afterward  as  heartily  as  a sin  was  ever  repented  of.  But  we  were  on 
our  way  to  be  exchanged,  and  when  v/e  stopped  to  think  of  it — though 
instinct  urged  us  to  go — it  was  surely  better  to  go  on  by  rail  and  steam- 
boat to  Washington,  than  to  dare  the  rigors  of  the  Virginia  mountains  in 
winter,  without  clothing  enough  to  defend  us  from  perishing,  through  a 
single  freezing  night.  But  in  this  case  instinct  was  right  and  reason 
^ wrong.  Soon  the  other  train  arrived,  and  a few  hours  more  of  rapid  and 
eventless  travel  placed  us  in  the  rebel  capitaL 


i 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

RICHMOND  AND  ITS  PRISONS. 

Richmond  is  a beautiful  city,  but  we  saw  little  of  its  attractions  on  ^ 
this  first  visit.  There  was  still  the  same  sparkling  moonlight  and 
the  same  intense  and  piercing  cold  which  marked  our  journey  on 
setting  out  from  Atlanta;  we  were  instantly  chilled  when  we  had  left  the 
shelter  of  the  cars,  and  started  through  the  streets  of  the  sleeping  town. 
Everything  looked  grim  and  silent  through  the  frosty  air,  but  we  cared 
little  for  such  a cool  reception  if  we  could  speedily  go  through  on  our  way  t 
to  the  place  of  exchange. 

We  had  hardly  passed  a dozen  squares  of  this  historic  city,  when  sud- 
denly it  occurred  to  Sergeant  White  that  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with 
us.  He  had  been  ordered  to  bring  us  to  Richmond,  where  he  had  never 
been  before,  and  was  given  a letter  to  the  Provost  Marshal,  but  had  no 
idea  of  where  to  find  him.  This  was  an  unfavorable  hour  for  inquiries. 
He  preferred  entering  upon  the  search  alone,  rather  than  with  a crowd  of 
prisoners  at  his  heels.  For  a time  we  were  left  in  charge  of  a subordinate, 
and  endeavored  to  shelter  ourselves  as  well  as  we  could  from  the  unbear- 
able cold,  which  threatened  to  prove  fatal.  Necessity  is  rich  in  expe- 
dients. We  huddled  into  the  angle  of  a brick  wall  and  spread  the  two 
pieces  of  carpet  over  our  heads.  It  was  astonishing  to  notice  how  much 
more  comfortable  this  made  us — especially  those  on  the  inside  of  the  ♦ 
pack  where  I happened  to  be.  In  perhaps  an  hour  the  sergeant  came 
back  and  conducted  us  to  the  Marshal’s  office. 

Our  company,  thirty  strong,  threaded  several  of  the  principal  streets 
that  would  have  been  entirely  dark  but  for  the  moonlight,  and  entered  the 
office,  which,  to  our  further  discomfort,  was  fireless.  We  stood  for  an  hour 
or  more  in  the  empty  room,  looking  at  the  grim  portraits  of  rebel  generals  t 
that  stared  at  us  from  the  walls,  until  the  Marshal  himself  entered.  He 
did  not  deign  to  speak  to  us,  but  opened  the  letter  handed  him  by  the  ser- 
geant and  read  that  ten  disloyal  Tennesseeans,  four  Federal  soldiers,  and 
six  engme  thieves^  were  hereby  forwarded  to  Richmond  by  order  of  Gen. 
Beauregard.  We  had  hoped  that  this  title  of  which  we  had  become 
heartily  sick  would  now  be  left  behind;  but  it  still  clung  to  us  and  seemed  ^ 
ominous  of  further  suffering.  The  Marshal  then  gave  his  orders  and 
called 'a  guide,  under  whose  direction  we  again  marched  off. 


j 


Richmond  and  its  Prisons, 


375 

By  this  time  it  was  daylight,  December  7th,  1862.  Richmond  looked 
still  more  cheerless  by  the  cold  beams  of  daybreak  than  it  did  before. 

• We  marched  along  several  tedious  streets  until  we  came  near  the  bank 
of  James  River,  where  we  halted  in  front  of  a most  desolate-looking,  but 
very  large  brick  building,  surrounded  by  a formidable  circle  of  guards. 
A sentinel  summoned  an  officer,  and  we  learned,  as  we  had  already  sur- 
mised, that  this  was  none  other  than  the  far-famed  Libby  Prison,  We  had 
expected  to  enter  it,  having  heard  that  it  was  the  place  to  which  exchanged 
prisoners  were  sent  on  their  way  to  City  Point,  where  exchanges  were 

* completed.  We  hoped  that  we  would  not  be  obliged  to  stay  here  a whole 


t 


t 


% 


Libby  Prison.  From  a photograph. 

day  as  we  had  done  at  Lynchburg.  We  went  up  a flight  of  stairs,  and  on 
turning  to  the  right  entered  a vast  open  room,  with  a multitude  of  people 
• in  it,  and  saw  almost  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Mitchel’s  camp,  the 
old  familiar  United  States  uniform.  We  were  at  once  in  the  midst  of 
comrades. 

At  first  our  greeting  was  not  very  warm,  as  we  still  wore  the  citizen 
clothes,  or  rather  rags,  which  had  done  duty  day  and  night  for  the  past 
eight  months.  Our  appearance  was  not  prepossessing,  being  now  more 
^ emaciated  and  tattered  than  the  average  of  prisoners;  but  our  story  was 
an  unfailing  passport,  and  we  were  soon  heartily  welcomed.  There  was 
only  one  small  stove  in  the  midst  of  the  great  room,  and  as  many  of  the 


376 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


inmates  as  possible  were  closely  huddled  around  it.  But  they  generously 
made  way  for  us  and  our  blood  was  thawed,  after  which  we  had  leisure  to 
look  around  us. 

The  room  was  bare,  and  with  the  exception  of  great  rafters,  was  open 
clear  to  the  roof.  The  window  sashes  had  been  removed  and  the  wind 
whistled  in  from  the  river  far  more  sharply  than  was  consistent  with  com- 
fort. The  stove  was  kept  red-hot,  but  this  only  warmed  a limited  circle, 
and  had  no  effect  on  the  general  temperature  of  the  room.  But  with  all 
these  discomforts  and  many  others  of  which  we  heard,  we  rejoiced  to  be 
here.  It  was  to  our  simple  minds  the  sure  pledge  that  our  enemies  had 
not  been  deceiving  us  in  their  promises  of  an  exchange;  for  the  soldiers 
in  whose  company  we  were  placed  expected  to  go  north  in  the  next  truce- 
boat,  which  was  now  due,  and  they  had  actually  been  paroled  for  that  pur- 
pose. Our  hearts  beat  high  as  we  talked  with  comrades  from  different 
parts  of  the  country,  and  thought  that,  after  drinking  the  bitter  draught  of 
bondage  and  persecution  for  eight  long  months,  we  were  at  last  to  taste 
the  sweets  of  liberty.  What  wonder  if  our  joy  was  too  deep  for  words, 
and  we  could  only  turn  it  over  in  our  minds,  and  tremble  lest  it  should 
prove  too  good  to  be  true!  But  there  came  a swift  and  terrible  shadow, 
and  our  dream  of  delight  vanished! 

From  our  companions  we  learned  many  interesting  items  of  news. 
They  told  us  of  the  battles  in  which  they  had  been  captured,  and  of  the 
varying  fortunes  of  war.  But  strangest  of  all  to  us,  was  what  they  said 
about  the  existence  of  a large  party  at  the  north  who  were  opposed  to  the 
continuance  of  the  war,  ^‘because,’'  as  my  informant  explained,  “they 
feared  if  it  went  on  that  they  might  be  drafted  and  have  to  take  part  in 
the 'fight.  “ 

After  we  had  been  here  an  hour  or  two,  an  officer  entered  and  called 
for  the  men  who  had  been  fast  put  in.  Expecting  that  we  would  receive 
the  regular  exchange  parole  we  promptly  responded.  They  took  us  down 
to  the  entrance  hall  and  called  over  our  names,  identifying  each  one.  The 
four  soldiers  and  one  of  the  Tennesseeans  were  put  on  one  side  and  we 
on  the  other.  The  first  party  were  then  conducted  back  up  stairs  again, 
while  we  were  put  into  an  immense,  dark,  and  low  room  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  first  floor. 

These  changes  were  too  significant  to  be  easily  misunderstood.  It  was 
an  awful  moment.  We  knew  that  we  had  been  deceived,  and  our  hopes 
at  once  fell  from  the  highest  heaven  to  which  they  had  soared,  down  to 
perfect  nothingness,  and  misery  and  despair  overwhelmed  us.  To  be  thus 
separated  from  our  friends  seemed  like  parting  the  sheep  from  the  goats, 
and  could  be  only  because  they  still  held  charges  against  us  which  would 
prevent  our  being  treated  like  other  prisoners.  No  wonder  we  looked  at 
each  other  with  pale  faces  in  the  dim  light,  and  asked  questions  that  no 


Richmond  and  its  Prisons, 


377 


one  wanted  to  answer.  But  only  for  a few  moments  were  we  crushed 
under  this  unexpected  blow.  Soon  we  again  sought  avenues  of  hope. 

^ Perhaps  they  did  not  recognize  us  as  soldiers  and  only  wanted  to  ex- 
change us  as  citizens — a matter  of  indifference  to  us,  so  long  as  they  ex- 
changed us  at  all.  We  looked  around  to  see  what  foundation  we  could 
find  for  this  pleasing  conjecture. 

There  were  even  more  prisoners  here  than  upstairs.  Civilians  were 
gathered  from  all  parts  of  the  South.  Some  of  them  had  been  in  prison 
ever  since  the  war  broke  out,  and  a few  even  had  been  arrested  for  sup- 

• posed  anti-slavery  principles  before  that  event,  and  had  lived  in  loathsome 
dungeons  ever  since  ! This  did  not  look  much  like  a speedy  exchange  ! 
A few  only  of  our  soldiers  were  here,  and  they  as  punishment  for  attempt- 
ing to  escape. 

In  the  meantime  breakfast  was  brought  in.  It  consisted  of  a small 
quantity  of  very  thin  soup,  and  a very  scanty  allowance  of  bread.  To  our 

^delight  the  latter  was  made  from  wheat  instead  of  corn,  which  had  been 
the  only  food  further  south;  and  all  the  time  we  remained  in  Richmond 
we  received  good  bread,  though  but  little  of  it. 

Just  as  we  began  to  feel  somewhat  at  home  in  this  dark,  dirty,  and 
gloomy  place' — which,  however,  was  not  so  chill  as  the  room  above — an 
officer  entered  and  inquired  for  the  last  fifteen  men  who  had  been  put  in. 
We  answered  with  great  alacrity,  for  hope  instantly  suggested  that  there 

• had  been  some  mistake  which  would  now  be  corrected  and  we  taken  up 
stairs  again.  But  no  such  good  fortune  was  in  store  for  us.  There  yet 
remained  a lower  deep  to  sound.  We  were  taken  out  of  doors  and  found  a 
guard  waiting  to  receive  us.  Any  change  to  another  prison  was  almost 
sure  to  be  for  the  worse,  and  we  were  probably  the  only  band  of  prisoners 
who  were  sorry  to  leave  Libby  1 

• We  crossed  the  street  and  halted  at  another  desolate-looking  building 
which  we  afterward  learned  was  “ Castle  Thunder,'*  the  famous  Bastile 
of  the  South.  Like  Libby it  had  been  a tobacco  manufactory  before 
the  war.  We  were  conducted  through  a guarded  door  into  the  general 
office,  where  we  had  to  wait  for  some  time.  A fierce-looking,  black- 
whiskered  man,  whom  I knew  afterward  as  Chillis,  the  prison  Commissary, 

I walked  through  the  room,  and  looking  at  us  for  a moment,  as  if  his  eyes 
would  pierce  us,  said: 

“ Bridge-burners,  are  they  ? they  ought  to  be  hung,  every  man  of  them; 
and  so  ought  every  man  that  does  anything  against  the  Confederacy.^' 

I could  have  better  agreed  with  him  in  the  state  of  feeling  I now  had 
if  he  had  said  “ for.'^ 

The  guard  returned  and  we  were  ordered  up  stairs.  At  the  first  land- 

^ ing  we  passed  by  a howling  and  yelling  multitude,  who  made  such  an  out- 
rageous noise  that  I was  compelled  to  put  my  hands  to  my  ears.  As  we 


378 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


came  in  view,  more  than  a score  of  voices  screamed  with  all  the  energy 
their  lungs  could  command,  “ Fresh  fish  ! Fresh  fish  ! I found  that 
the  same  exclamation  greeted  every  new  arrival. 

On  the  floor  above  this  there  was  another  howling  multitude.  We 
were  taken  into  a little  office  at  one  side  and  searched,  to  see  if  we  had 
anything  that  might  be  useful  to  a prisoner.  They  took  some  pocket- 
knives  from  the  Tennesseeans,  which  they  had  managed  to  keep  secreted 
till  now.  But  1 had  been  learning  prison  arts,  and  when  it  came  my  turn, 

I slipped  a large  knife  which  I had  obtained  at  Atlanta  up  my  sleeve,  and 
managed  by  turning  my  arm  when  they  were  feeling  for  concealed  weapons  O' 
to  keep  it  out  of  the  way. 

When  this  examination  was  over  I thought  they  were  going  to  put  us 
into  the  imitation  mad-house  we  had  passed;  and  they  did  not  do  much 
better,  for  they  took  us  down  the  centre  of  the  room  about  half  way,  and 
then  placed  us  in  a stall  beside  it.  I call  it  a stall,  for  no  other  word  so 
well  describes  it.  It  was  one  of  a range  about  the  size  and  shape  of  horse  ^ 
sheds,  partitioned  off  from  the  large  room  in  which  were  the  noisy  mis- 
creants, and  from  each  other  only  by  long  boards  nailed  to  uprights  with 
cracks  between  wide  enough  to  let  the  wind  circulate  freely.  ' Most  of  the 
window  sashes  of  the  large  room  were  out,  which  greatly  increased  the 
cold.  Our  stall  was  only  eight  or  nine  feet  in  width,  and  possibly  sixteen 
in  length.  Its  entire  furniture  was  a low  shelf,  about  six  feet  long,  which 
served  to  support  a bucket  of  water  placed  on  it.  ^ 

In  this  cheerless  place  our  party,  six  in  number,  and  the  nine  remain- 
ing Tennesseeans — fifteen  in  all — were  confined  during  the  months  of 
December  and  January.  There  was  a window  in  the  shed  which  afforded 
abundant  light.  We  did  not  suffer  from  crowding  or  lack  of  air  as  in  the 
Swims  dungeon;  but  other  evils  endured,  especially  cold  and  hunger, 
were  scarcely  less  tormenting  than  the  inflictions  of  that  vilest  of  all  t 
dens. 

The  first  day  of  our  imprisonment  here  our  spirits  sank  lower  than 
they  ever  did  before.  All  our  bright  hopes  were  dashed  to  the  ground, 
and  there  seemed  good  reason  to  fear  that  we  were  doomed  to  this  dreary 
abode  for  the  remainder  of  the  war,  even  if  we  escaped  the  dreadful  fate 
of  our  comrades.  It  was  too  disheartening  for  all  our  philosophy,  and  ^ 
that  day  was  one  of  the  blackest  gloom.  We  seldom  spoke,  and  when  we 
did,  it  was  to  denounce  our  fohy  in  suffering  ourselves  to  be  deluded  by 
fair  words  to  Richmond,  when  we  might  so  readily  have  escaped.  Our 
lot  would  have  been  much  easier  to  bear  but  for  the  conviction  that  it  was 
our  own  fault.  We  ought  not  to  have  believed  them.  It  was  only  the 
shrinking  from  the  bitter  cold  on  the  mountains  that  disposed  us  to  credit 
their  promises  and  kept  us  from  leaving;  and  now  the  promises  were  all  ^ 
broken— and  from  the  way  we  had  begun  it  seemed  likely  that  we  would 


RicJinio7id  and  its  Prisons, 


379 

suffer  as  much  from  cold  as  we  could  have  done  in  making  our  escape — an 
anticipation  abundantly  verified. 

• But  it  was  no  use  lamenting,  and  all  we  could  do  was  to  register  a solemn 
vow  that  we  would  never  be  deceived  again  in  that  manner,  and  that  we 
would  never  let  another  chance  of  escape  pass.  It  is  easy  “ to  lock  the 
door  after  the  horse  is  stolen/' 

But  when  night  came  we  found  the  help  we  might  have  had  sooner  if 
we  had  not  been  too  angry  with  ourselves  to  seek  it.  At  the  time  of  even- 
ing worship,  we  read  our  chapter,  sung  our  hymn,  and  then  knelt  in 

* prayer.  I tried  to  roll  all  our  cares  upon  the  Lord,  and  felt  a sense  of 
his  nearness  that  was  inexpressibly  precious.  Rising  from  my  knees  I 
was  comforted  in  the  assurance  that  whatever  happened  we  had  one  friend, 
“ mighty  to  save.^'  The  more  I thought  of  Him  the  more  it  seemed  that 
this  prison  hardship  was  not  an  unendurable  evil  as  long  as  He  gave  us  the 
light  of  His  countenance. 

t The  next  morning  all  awoke  still  cheerful,  and  nerved  for  any  fate  that 
might  follow. 

The  prison  life  here  was  somewhat  broader,  and  presented  a little  more 
variety  than  we  had  formerly  known.  The  door  of  our  stall'was  unlocked 
in  the  morning,  and  we  had  to  go  down  the  two  flights  of  stairs  in  the  charge 
of  a guard  to  the  open  court-yard,  for  the  purpose  of  washing  at  a hydrant; 
^then  we  were  immediately  taken  back  to  our  stall  and  locked  up.  But 
the  principal  part  of  our  difficulty  proved  to  be  the  want  of  fire.  The 
early  part  of  this  winter  was  exceedingly  severe,  and  as  we  had  virtually 
neither  clothing  nor  bedding,  this  was  a source  of  continuous  suffering,  and 
effectually  prevented  all  those  pleasant  fireside  chats  which  had  done  so 
much  to  make  our  condition  endurable  in  the  Atlanta  barracks.  There 
were  but  few  pleasant  employments  in  which  we  could  indulge  through 
•the  day,  and  the  night  was  even  worse.  The  gas  jet  in  the  corner  of  the 
room  was  lighted  by  the  guard  as  soon  as  it  began  to  grow  dark,  that  we 
might  still  be  under  observation  by  any  one  looking  through  a crack  in 
the  partition.  We  had  abundance  of  light,  except  when  the  awkwardness 
of  the  gas  managers  left  the  whole  city  in  darkness,  which  happened  more 
than  once.  In  the  colder  weather  we  did  not  attempt  to  sleep  till  sleep 
•became  a necessity,  pacing  back  and  forth  till  exhausted;  we  would  then 
pile  down  on  the  floor  as  close  as  we  could  possibly  lie  and  spread  over 
the  whole  mass  the  two  thin  bits  of  carpet  which  constituted  our  only 
bedding.  Here  we  would  sleep,  till  awakened  with  cold,  when  we  would 
arise  and  pace  the  floor  again.  A little  device  to  which  we  resorted  will 
gave  an  idea  of  how  much  we  wished  warmth.  We  found  part  of  the 
^ blade  of  an  old  spade  in  our  room,  and  by  putting  it  diagonally  over  the 
gas-jet  it  diminished  the  light  but  made  the  heat  available;  two  or  three 
were  always  toasting  their  hands  around  t'lis  feeble  furnace. 


38o 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


We  never  omitted  our  devotions.  For  a time  the  deserters  outside, 
who  were  composed  of  the  very  scum  of  Southern  society,  many  of  them 
guilty  of  the  worst  crimes,  tried  to  interrupt  us  by  every  means  in  their  r 
power;  but  finding  their  efforts  of  no  avail,  as  they  could  only  shout  de- 
risively at  us  through  the  planking,  they  grew  weary  of  such  tame  sport 
and  left  us  to  pursue  our  own  way  in  peace.  We  afterward  found,  when 
we  were  put  among  them  for  a short  time,  that  they  respected  us  all  the 
more  for  our  perseverance. 

A few  days  after  our  arrival  we  noticed  a great  stir  among  the  prisoners 
at  Libby ^ which  was  in  plain  view  from  our  window,  and  not  more  than  two^ 
squares  distant.  Inquiry  among  the  prisoners  outside,  who  were  as  much 
interested  in  anything  of  the  kind  as  we,  revealed  the  fact  that  the  ex- 
pected truce-boat  had  “ arrived  from  the  United  States,’'  and  that  a large 
load  of  prisoners  was  being  started  North.  The  mode  of  effecting  an 
exchange  was  first  for  the  two  Commissioners  to  agree  on  the  terms. 
This  had  been  already  done  so  far  as  the  great  mass  of  prisoners  against 
whom  no  charge  was  made  on  either  side  was  concerned.  Then  a large 
boat-load  would  be  sent  up  the  James  River  to  City  Point,  a few  miles 
from  Richmond;  here  they  were  met  by  Mr.  Quid,  the  rebel  agent,  and  a 
similar  number  was  ordered  by  rail  from  Richmond.  These  were  received 
at  City  Point,  and  the  exchange  completed  there.  The  boat,  which  was 
under  Union  command,  (for  the  Federal  government  took  the  greater^ 
part  of  the  trouble  in  the  matter  of  exchange^)  would  carry  these  troops 
northward,  and  bring  back  another  load  of  prisoners  from  the  North,  when 
the  process  would  be  repeated.  All  prisoners  before  starting  signed  the 
oath  of  parole,  not  to  serve  against  the  opposing  government  till  declared 
regularly  exchanged.  This  was  to  prevent  all  attempts  at  escape  while  on 
the  way.  The  arrival  of  a truce-boat  was  therefore  a matter  of  the  deepest 
interest  to  all  prisoners  who  were  each  hoping  that  his  turn  would  be  th^^ 
next. 

Soon  we  saw  a band  of  United  States  soldiers  under  rebel  guard  come 
up  the  street,  on  their  way  toward  the  cars  to  take  passage  for  the  truce - 
boat.  Our  five  friends  with  whom  we  had  spent  so  many  days  in  Atlanta 
and  on  the  way  to  Richmond  were  in  the  same  company.  As  they  passed 
our  window  they  looked  up,  saw  us,  and  waved  their  hands.  We  couldc 
not  shout  messages  in  the  presence  of  the  guards,  but  wished  them  a 
happy  journey.  My  especial  friend  Walton  did  write  to  my  father  as  I 
had  before  requested  him,  but  the  letter  was  not  received.  He  afterward 
wrote  again  telling  the  story  of  our  acquaintance,  and  adding  a rumor  of 
our  subsequent  execution.  Fortunately  another  and  later  letter  from  a 
different  source  had  reached  home  first,  and  friends  were  spared  the  suffer-^ 
ing  this  would  have  occasioned. 

This  parting  was  bitter.  We  were  glad  that  some  who  had  been  near 


Richmond  and  its  Prisons, 


381 


us  were  to  be  delivered  from  the  power  of  our  enemies.  But  it  seemed 
so  much  like  fulfilling  the  Scripture,  “ The  one  shall  be  taken  and  the 
other  left,”  that  we  turned  away  from  the  window  feeling  again  the  gloom 
which  darkened  the  first  day  of  our  arrival.  A sense  of  utter  desertion 
and  loneliness  swept  over  us,  which  only  disappeared  when  we  once  more 
sought  help  from  God. 

In  the  dead  and  wearying  sameness  which  again  settled  upon  our  daily 
life  we  had  one  delightful  half-hour  nearly  every  day  in  reading  the  Rich- 
mond papers.  In  this  prison  we  were  not  debarred  this  privilege,  for  the 

• first  time  in  the  whole  of  our  imprisonment.  Among  the  hundreds  of 
prisoners  outside  there  was  always  some  one  who  had  money  enough  to 
buy  the  dailies,  and  charity  enough  when  read,  to  pass  them  to  us  through 
a crack.  Frequently  we  would  get  several  in  one  day.  As  compared  with 
the  Northern  papers  they  were  very  meagre,  contradictory,  and  unreliable; 
but  they  were  a wonderful  treat  to  us.  As  soon  as  one  came  to  hand  all 

^the  party  would  gather  round  while  I read  all  the  news  and  editorials 
aloud,  and  these  would  afford  much  food  for  fresh  conversation.  It  was 
only  by  carefully  putting  together  different  accounts  that  we  could  gather 
a fair  idea  of  the  real  situation.  The  advance  of  Burnside  preceding  the 
Fredericksburg  battle  was  wonderfully  exciting.  When  we  heard  of  his 
crossing  the  river,  we  prayed  most  sincerely  for  his  success  and  his  con- 
tinued advance  toward  Richmond.  In  this  case  we  would  either  have 

• fallen  into  his  hands  or  have  been  removed;  and  we  had  firmly  resolved 
never  to  be  moved  again  without  a desperate  effort  to  escape.  But  the 
sad  news  of  his  repulse  destroyed  all  the  hopes  we  had  been  indulging. 

We  were  not  able  to  borrow  books  as  in  Atlanta,  and  felt  the  need 
severely.  Among  other  expedients  I managed  to  sell  the  fine  hat  which 
Wells  had  placed  on  my  head  for  three  dollars  and  a half,  and  bought 
^another  in  better  keeping  with  the  rest  of  my  apparel — that  is,  long  since 
worn  out — for  half  a dollar.  A Union  man  who  visited  the  prison  not 
long  after,  secretly  gave  me  five  dollars  more.  As  I was  now  wealthy,  I 
tried  to  procure  a book  which  would  stand  a good  deal  of  reading  and 
lighten  the  long  hours  for  us  all.  \ entrusted  the  money  to  the  corporal 
who  attended  the  prison  with  very  strict  instructions.  He  kept  the  money 
^ for  several  days;  and  then,  as  I began  to  think  that  he  was  likely  to  imitate 
Swims,  he  gave  it  back,  not  having  been  able  to  get  the  book  desired.  I 
next  tried  a higher  officer,  but  met  with  no  better  success.  Determined 
not  to  be  baffled,  I dropped  the  money  through  a crack  in  the  floor  to  a 
lady  prisoner  in  a room  below  who  was  sometimes  allowed  to  go  out  in 
town;  but  in  a few  days  she  sent  it  back,  saying  the  book  was  not  in 
Richmond.  Encouraged  by  the  honesty  of  those  who  so  faithfully  re- 

• turned  me  the  money,  I made  sure  of  succeeding  in  another  manner.  I 
wrote  the  names  of  several  books  on  a slip  of  paper  and  gave  it  to  Com- 


382 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


missary  Chillis; — the  man  who  wanted  us  hung  when  we  first  arrived,  but 
who  was  by  far  the  kindest  officer  in  the  prison;  he  likewise  returned  it 
after  due  effort,  telling  me  that  none  of  these  books  were  to  be  had  in  ^ 
Richmond.  My  hope  for  obtaining  an  7 reading  matter  beyond  the  daily 
papers  was  completely  extinguished;  and  I therefore  devoted  the  money^ 
to  the  next  best  purpose  to  which  it  could  be  applied — the 'purchase  of 
food,  which  was  sorely  needed. 

Our  bread  was  very  good  and  the  meat  better  than  any  we  had  so  far 
received.  One  complaint  only  was  made  against  the  food,  but  that  was 
most*  serious.  There  was  too  little  of  it.  At  no  time  would  it  have  been  ^ 
difficult  for  one  of  us  to  have  eaten  two  days’  rations  at  a single  meal  ! 
We  had  a standing  argument  as  to  whether  it  was  better  to  eat  all  that  was 
given  — for  a whole  day’s  allowance  was  given  at  once — or  divide  it  into 
two  or  three  portions.  In  the  first  case,  there  was  a fair  meal,  but  a terri- 
bly long  interval  followed;  and  the  sight  of  others  eating  in  the  after- 
noon was  not  calculated  to  appease  the  hunger  that  would  be  raging  by  t 
that  time.  If  it  was  divided,  each  portion  was  so  small  that  it  seemed 
hardly  worth  while  to  begin.  We  were  also  permitted,  if  we  thought  good, 
to  exchange  our  allowance  of  meat  for  a certain  extra  quantity  of  bread, 
by  notifying  the  Commissary.  We  tried  this  also,  and  could  not  see  that 
there  was  much  if  any  profit  in  so  doing,  for  these  changes  left  the  amount 
of  food  about  as  before  and  were  therefore  of  little  service.  Here  each 

c 

man  received  an  allowance  that  had  been  apportioned  for  him,  and  the 
prisoners  were  not  entrusted  with  the  work  of  distribution,  which  was  well, 
for  some  in  the  prison  outside  would  have  fared  badly  had  they  been  in 
the  hands  of  their  companions.  But  those  who  had  funds  could  purchase 
without  restriction  from  the  Commissary.  The  price,  however,  was  such 
that  a small  amount  of  money  was  soon  exhausted.  A small  cake  or 
biscuit,  such  as  sold  at  our  homes  for  a penny,  was  ten  cents  at  first,  but  ^ 
soon  rose  to  fifteen.  One  of  these  added  to  our  daily  allowance  made  a 
great  improvement.  But  our  money  was  soon  gone,  and  thus  this  resource 
was  cut  off.  Besides,  we  had  to  take  a good  many  rebel  postage  stamps  in 
change,  and  if  these  became  torn  or  cracked,  which  frequently  happened, 
they  were  not  received,  and.  we  lost  a considerable  portion  of  our  precious 
currency  in  that  manner.  « 

That  we  were  very  restless  and  discontented  here,  and  revolved  all 
kinds  of  desperate  plans  for  escape,  will  be  understood  without  statement. 
The  prospect  seemed  hopeless,  for  we  were  in  the  third  story,  and  could 
only  succeed  by  passing  through  successive  relays  of  guards,  all  of  whom 
had  reserves  ready  to  co-operate  with  them  in  case  of  need;  or  we  might 
think  about  getting  down  from  our  window  into  the  street  with  a guard  ^ 
especially  watching  that  window,  and  no  possible  means  of  descent,  so  far 
as  we  had  yet  discovered.  Our  room  had  some  offices  on  one  side,  and  a- 


Richmond  and  its  Prisons,  383 

stall  on  the  other.,  The  latter  was  occupied  by  a number  of  Federal  sol- 
diers, sortie  charged  with  being  spies,  and  others  with  murder, 
f One  of  the  latter  in  whom  I became  greatly  interested  was  a young 
and  handsome  man  called  Captain  Webster.  On  one  occasion  he  had 
been  sent  to  capture  a notorious  guerrilla,  Captain  Simpson,  who  was 
then  in  hiding  within  our  lines.  Webster  found  him  and  summoned  him 
to  surrender.  Instead  of  doing  so,  he  fired  his  pistol  and  started  to  run; 
but  Webster  also  fired  and  mortally  wounded  him.  When  Webster  was 
afterward  captured  by  the  Confederates,  he  was  charged  with  the  murder 
* of  Simpson  and  confined  in  the  room  next  to  us.  Some  time  afterward 
he  was  hung,  but  the  charge  as  published  against  him  was  changed  to  that 
of  violating  his  parole. 

Webster  was  now  tired  of  confinement,  and  knowing  that  revenge  on 
the  part  of  Simpson’s  friends  endangered  his  life,  he  was  ready  to  make 
the  boldest  strike  for  freedom.  In  concert  with  a large  number  of  men 
»who  were  in  the  room  outside,  and  with  some  citizens  in  the  room  below, 
we  decided  to  make  the  attempt.  The  midnight  before  Christmas  was 
fixed  upon  as  a favorable  season.  As  in  Atlanta  we  had  opened  secret 
communication  with  all  the  rooms  of  the  great  building,  and  we  decided 
after  full  consultation  to  let  the  citizens  initiate  the  movement.  This 
they  were  to  do  by  giving  the  startling  cry  of  “ fire.^’  This  is  liable  to 
^ arouse  panic  at  any  time,  and  coming  late  at  night  in  a building  crowded 
with  prisoners  it  would  be  doubly  alarming;  probably  those  not  in  the  plot 
would  'rush  also  to  the  doors.  About  a hundred  and  fifty  were  in  the 
secret,  and  as  soon  as  the  signal  was  given,  we  were  to  cry  “ fire  ” at  the 
top  of  our  voices  and  rush  upon  the  guard.  There  were  only  thirty  sol- 
diers actually  on  duty  in  the  building,  and  I had  no  fear,  if  the  plan  was 
fairly  carried  out,  that  the  first  stage  of  the  game — that  of  getting  out  of 
^ the  building,  which  was  not  the  hardest  part — would  be  immediately  suc- 
cessful. 

On  Christmas  eve  everything  was  in  readiness  and  most  anxiously  did 
we  await  the  signal.  The  hours  rolled  slowly  on;  midnight  came  and 
went  while  we  listened.  But  no  cry  was  heard.  We  afterward  learned 
that  the  citizens  failed  in  courage  at  the  decisive-  moment.  Thus  they 
t defeated  a plan  which  would  in  all  probability  have  succeeded — at  least 
so  far  as  the  escape  of  some  of  those  engaged, — and  which  would  have 
startled  rebeldom  not  a little  by  breaking  open  its  strongest  prison  in  the 
city  of  Richmond  itself. 

We  resolved  to  try  again  the  next  night;  and  that  no  faint-heartedness 
might  interfere  we  appointed  Captain  Webster  our  leader,  knowing  that 
^ he  would  not  falter.  Again  we  prepared,  and  this  time  more  carefully  than 
before.  The  locks  on  all  the  side  rooms  which  contained  the  prisoners 
most  dreaded  by  the  enemy  were  carefully  drawn,  except  our  own,  which 


384  Daring  and  Suffering. 

was  so  close  to  the  guard  that  it  could  not  be  removed  without  imminent 
danger  of  discovery. 

There  were  some  who  did  not  wish  to  make  the  desperate  attempt,  but  \ 
these  were  very  kind  to  the  men  who  intended  to  go,  supplying  us  with 
serviceable  shoes,  and  taking  our  worn-out  ones  in  return. 

At  length  every  thing  was  in  readiness  and  we  again  waited  only  for 
the  signal.  In  our  room  we  were  perfectly  ready.  The  board  which  sup- 
ported the  water  bucket  was  taken,  and  four  of  us  holding  it  as  a battering 
ram,  did  not  doubt  our  ability  to  dash  the  door  into  the  middle  of  the  big 
room,  and  seize  the  guard  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  assault. 

As  the  critical  time  drew  near,  the  small  rooms  were  all  gradually 
vacated.  The  inmates  of  the  large  room  stood  before  the  guard  and  the 
door  in  such  a manner  as  to  hide  the  movement  from  his  view. 

For  an  instant  all  was  silent.  We  listened  breathlessly  for  the  word 
“fire” — a word  of  double  signification,  for  we  had  often  waited  for  it « 
with  beating  hearts  on  the  battle-field,  but  never  with  greater  anxiety  than 
now.  We  lifted  up  our  hearts  in  a mental  appeal  to  God  that  he  would 
be  with  us,  and  preserve  us  through  the  coming  strife,  and  if  consistent 
with  his  own  righteous  will,  permit  us  to  win  our  liberty. 

But  what  can  cause  the  delay  ? Every  added  moment  is  a source  of 
danger  and  the  guards  may  see  our  preparations  and  get  the  great  ad-  ^ 
vantage  of  the  first  stroke.  Minute  after  minute  passes  and  the  dead 
silence  is  only  broken  by  the  throbbing  of  our  own  hearts.  We  stand 
with  the  board  ready,  and  our  spirits  eager  for  the  coming  strife  which 
shall  lead  us  to  grapple  with  naked  hands  the  shining  bayonets  of  the 
guard.  We  do  not  doubt  the  issue,  for  the  hope  of  liberty  inspires  us. 

But  what  terrible  surprise  is  this?  We  see  our  partners  in  the  desper- 
ate enterprise  creeping  back  to  their  rooms  ! We  are  enraged  and  freely  ^ 
use  the  word  “ Cowards;^’  but  soon  hear  the  explanation  which  makes  us 
feel  that  the  Lord  is  indeed  keeping  watch  over  us. 

Just  as  Webster  was  about  to  give  the  signal,  a comrade  pressed  hur- 
riedly to  his  side,  and  whispered  that  we  were  betrayed,  and  that  an  extra 
guard  of  over  eighty  men  were  drawn  up  before  the  street  door.  He  said 
that  he  had  been  told  that  their  orders  were  to  shoot  all  who  came  out  < 
while  another  detachment  was  to  close  in  behind  and  make  the  slaughter 
complete,  Webster  was  at  first  incredulous,  but  slipped  to  the  window 
and  saw  the  soldiers  for  himself.  He  was  convinced,  and  the  word  was 
passed  around  which  resulted  in  a rapid  but  quiet  return  to  the  cells,  and 
as  complete  a repair  of  damages  as  it  was  possible  to  make. 

I confess  that  when  I first  heard  the  story  of  the  soldiers  in  ambush,  ^ 
I thought  *t  the  invention  of  some  faint-hearted  individual  who  feared  the 
danger  of  the  assault.  But  it  w^f  ' 11  too  true.  The  next  day  the  Rich- 


Richmond  and  its  Prisons, 


385 


mond  papers  gave  a full  account  of  the  affair,  and  Captain  Alexander^  the 
tyrant  who  commanded  the  prison,  threatened  to  have  all  who  were  en- 
gaged in  it  tied  up  and  whipped.  But  nothing  more  serious  than  putting 
a few  who  had  been  prominent  into  close  confinement  for  a week  was 
actually  done.  One  prisoner,  however^  did  secure  his  release  by  this 
affair — the  man  who  betrayed  us  ! He  was  placed  in  the  prison  for  some 
slight  offense^  and  secured  his  own  pardon  by  informing  the  authorities  of 
our  design.  Where  so  many  were  engaged  in  a plot  this  was  a very 
natural  outcome. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 


LAST  EXPERIENCES  IN  REBEL  PRISONS. 

WE  had  made  repeated  efforts  to  send  letters  home  to  inform  our 
friends  that  we  were  still  alive,  but  all  had  hitherto  been  un- 
successful. The  Confederates  professed  to  allow  letters  to 
pass  the  lines  if  so  written  as  to  be  inoffensive  and  to  give  no  military  in- 
formation; but  though  we  had  written  and  been  very  guarded  in  our  ex- 
pressions, no  letter  was  ever  received  on  the  other  side.  We  could  not 
write  without  betraying  our  existence,  and  it  is  possible  that  this  was  the 
very  fact  to  be  concealed  ! Robt.  Quid,  rebel  commissioner  of  exchange, 
under  date  of  February  9th  ^ says  to  Col.  Ludlow,  the  U.  S.  Commissioner, 
“ Not  one  of  the  Tennessee  and  Ohio  men  referred  to  in  your  letter  is  now 
in  Richmond.  If  they  are  elsewhere,  they  will  be  delivered  to  you/’  As 
we  had  been  in  Richmond  two  months  when  this  was  written,  and  were  all 
the  time  prominently  reported  in  the  prison  returns,  and  special  pains 
were  taken  to  keep  us  safe,  this  letter  has  a strange  sound;  and  when 
coupled  with  the  neglect  to  send  any  of  our  letters  through  the  lines,  it 
certainly  looks  as  if  there  was  a motive  of  some  kind  in  keeping  our  own 
people  from  knowing  anything  of  us.  Secretary  Stanton  told  me  that 
when  he  remonstrated  with  the  rebel  government  about  the  hanging  in 
Atlanta,  they  denied  having  any  knowledge  of  the  matter — and  this,  too, 
not  long  after  the  death  sentences  of  the  seven  had  been  sent  to  Rich- 
mond in  response  to  inquiries,  and  were  then  in  the  war  archives  ! 

But  we  now  had  a providential  opportunity  to  get  word  through  the 
lines  without  thanks  to  the  Confederates.  Prisoners  captured  at  the  battle 
of  Murfreesboro’  were  brought  to  Richmond  in  such  numbers  that  there 
was  no  room  for  them  in  Libby,  and  the  surplus  were  for  a day  or  two 
confined  in  the  basement  of  Castle  Thunder.  I wrote  a note  on  the  fly- 
leaf of  Paradise  Lost,  tore  it  out,  and  when  we  were  taken  around  to 
wash  in  the  morning,  I slipped  away  from  the  guard,  and  got  to  the  door 
of  the  room  where  the  western  prisoners  were  confined.  Here  I saw  a 
generous-looking  Irishman,  and  having  little  time  to  spare,  I handed  it  to 
him  with  the  request  that  he  v/ould  try  and  get  that  through  the  lines  for 
me,  and  send  it  to  its  address.  This  was  asking  a good  deal  of  a stranger. 


^ War  Records,  Series  III. 


Last  Experiences  in  Rebel  Prisons, 


387 


but  I had  a strong  conviction  that  he  would  do  his  best  to  carry  out  my 
wish.  The  note  was  written  very  closely,  and  carefully  directed.  As 
these  men  were  exchanged  in  three  or  four  days,  it  was  but  a short  time 
till  it  was  mailed  and  reached  its  destination.  To  the  dear  ones  at  l>ome 
it  was  like  a letter  from  the  dead.  My  father  received  it  at  the  post-office, 
and  was  so  overcome  when  he  perceived  its  nature  that  he  could  not  read 
further,  but  had  to  leave  that  office  to  a friend.  It  was  published  at  once 
in  the  Steubenville  Herald  and  widely  copied.  The  light  tone  assumed 
was  intended  to  comfort  those  hearts  that  I knew  must  be  sorely  wounded. 
The  letter  is  here  reproduced  just  as  it  was  written,  with  the  exception  of 
one  paragraph  addressed  particularly  to  my  mother,  in  reference  to  religious 
experience,  and  also,  I think,  to  the  fact  that  if  I got  home  again,  I would 
feel  it  my  duty  to  be  a preacher,  and  thus  fulfill  a long-cherished  hope  of 
hers — a paragraph  which  from  motives  of  delicacy  was  left  out  of  the 
newspaper  publication  and  which  I cannot  now  recover. 

“ Richmond,  Va.,  January  6,  1863. 

“Dear  Father: — I take  this  opportunity  of  writing  by  a paroled  prisoner,  to  let 
you  know  that  I am  well  and  doing  as  well  as  could  be  expected.  I have  seen  some  rather 
hard  times,  but  the  worst  is  past.  Our  lives  are  now  safe,  but  we  will  be  kept  during  the 
war,  unless  something  lucky  turns  up  for  us.  There  are  six  of  our  original  railroad  party 
here  yet.  Seven  were  executed  in  June,  and  eight  escaped  in  October. 

“ I stand  the  imprisonment  pretty  well.  The  worst  of  it  is  to  hear  of  our  men  (this 
refers  to  the  Union  army)  getting  whipped  so  often.  I hear  all  the  news  here  : read  three 
or  four  papers  every  day.  I even  know  that  Bingham  was  beat  in  the  last  election,  for 
which  I am  very  sorry.  ^ 

“ The  price  of  everything  here  is  awful.  It  costs  thirty  cents  to  send  a letter.  This 
will  account  for  my  not  writing  to  all  my  friends  ! Give  my  sincere  love  to  them,  and  tell 
them  to  write  to  me. 

“You  may  write  by  leaving  the  letter  unsealed,  putting  in  nothing  that  will  offend  the 
Secesh,  and  directing  to  Castle  Thunder,  Va,  I want  to  know  the  private  news, — how 
many  of  my  frieUds  have  fallen.  Also  tell  me  who  has  been  drafted  in  our  neighborhood, 
who  married,  and  who  like  to  be.  Also,  if  you  have  a gold  dollar  at  hand,  slip  it  into  the 
letter, — not  more,  as  it  might  tempt  the  Secesh  to  hook  it.  I have  tried  to  send  word 
through  to  you  several  times,  but  there  is  now  a better  chance  of  communicating  since  we 
came  from  Atlanta  to  Richmond. 

“ No  doubt  you  would  all  like  to  see  me  again,  but  let  us  have  patience.  Many  a 
better  man  than  I am  has  suffered  more,  and  many  parents  are  mourning  for  their  children 
without  the  hope  of  seeing  them  again.  So  keep  your  courage  up,  and  do  not  be  uneasy 
about  me.  Write  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  tell  all  my  friends  to  do  the  same. 

“ Ever  yours, 

“William  Pittenger.” 

“To  Thomas  Pittenger, 

“New  Somerset,  Jefferson  Co.,  Ohio.’' 

We  remained  in  the  little  stall  until  about  the  first  of  February.  Then 
all  the  other  rooms  in  that  range  were  wanted  for  hospital  purposes.  The 


^ The  Congressman  from  our  home  district. 


388 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


garret  over  the  big  room  had  been  used  for  this  purpose^  but  now  it  over- 
flowed, for  the  ravages  of  disease  among  the  prisoners  had  become  fear- 
fully great.  Our  rooms  were  not  well  fitted  for  the  purpose,  but  they  were 
no  worse  than  the  garret  above,  where  it  was  believed  that  all  who  went 
were  sure  of  death. 

Small-pox  had  broken  out  among  the  prisoners  in  a virulent  form,  and 
the  whole  town  was  alarmed.  Stringent  orders  were  issued' for  vaccinating 
all  who  were  in  danger  of  infection.  This  was  a fearful  hardship  in  con- 
nection with  the  kind  of  treatment  received,  and  under  such  circumstances, 
was  not  infrequently  fatal.  None  of  our  party  of  six  took  the  disease,  but 
several  of  the  Tennesseans  did,  and  men  were  dying  around  us  every  day. 
All  of  us  were  vaccinated,  and  several  were  very  sick  from  that  cause. 
But  the  sickness  had  at  least  the  one  good  result  of  securing  our  removal 
from  the  pen  in  which  we  had  been  confined  now  for  nearly  two  months. 

From  this  time  the  loneliness  and  isolation  of  our  prison  life  was  at 
an  end.  We  were  always  in  the  midst  of  a great  company,  with  the  unending 
sources  of  interest  opened  by  numbers.  At  first  we  were  taken  into  the 
noisy  bedlam  before  described,  which  was  by  no  means  a desirable  location 
in  itself,  but  it  made  a change  that  was  agreeable  for  a little  time. 

The  space  here  allowed  was  so  great  that  it  seemed  like  freedom  by 
contrast.  Almost  the  whole  of  the  upper  floor  was  in  the  one  room,  and 
there  was  an  extension  to  one  side  only  a little  smaller  than  the  great  room 
which  must  itself  have  been  much  more  than  a hundred  feet  long.  It 
was  more  like  the  upper  story  of  a great  barn  than  an  apartment  in  a 
house.  There  were  pillars  as  supports,  and  great  beams  and  rafters  visi- 
ble overhead;  there  were  a great  many  windows,  from  all  of  which  could 
be  seen  the  gleaming  muskets  and  bayonets  of  the  sentries.  Best  of  all, 
there  was  a large  stove.  It  did  not  warm  the  immense  loft,  but  there  was 
a chance  of  occasionally  getting  near  it  and  being  warmed  once  in  a while 
— a luxury  that  only  one  who  has  been  freezing  for  two  months  can  properly 
appreciate. 

The  amusements  of  our  new  friends  were  striking  if  not  elegant. 
There  was  a great  deal  of  very  rude  practical  joking.  One  prank  never 
seemed  to  lose  its  charm  for  some  of  the  roughest  of  the  lot,  among 
whom  a number  of  robust  Irishmen,  who  seemed  to  cling  together,  were 
conspicuous.  When  a dense  crowd  was  seen  around  the  stove,  a com- 
pany would  mass  themselves  at  a distance,  and  one  giving  the  word, 
“ Cha-r-ge,  me  boys,’^  they  would  rush  upon  the  unsuspecting  crowd  about 
the  stove,  striking  like  a solid  battering  ram.  Men  would  be  knocked 
down  and  scattered  in  all  directions,  and  sometimes  serious  hurts  inflicted. 
As  tempers  were  naturally  irritable  in  such  a place  fights  were  of  no  in- 
frequent occurrence.  It  only  needed  the  addition  of  intoxicating  liquor 
to  make  the  prison  a perfect  Pr.ndemonium.  But  fortunately  this  was 


Last  Experiences  in  Rebel  Prisons, 


389 


strictly  forbidden.  At  night  restraints  were  less  than  in  daylight,  and  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  guards,  there  were  robberies — not  of  anything 
of  much  intrinsic  value — and  terrible  beatings.  On  two  or  three  occa- 
sions men*  were  found  dead  in  the  morning  under  such  circumstances  as 
to  lead  to  the  belief  that  they  had  been  murdered.  But  we  had  nothing 
to  fear,  for  the  advantage  of  perfect  union  and  perfect  trust  was  such  as 
to  defend  us  against  much  more  formidable  danger.  As  it  was  understood 
that  we  would  take  care  of  ourselves  and  of  each  other  we  were  not  often 
molested  at  all,  except  sometimes  in  the  general  tumble  around  the  stove. 

But  not  infrequently  under  the  inspiration  of  the  gaslight  the  worst 
ruffians  would  put  on  a new  character.  When  the  day’s  turmoil  was  over 
and  all  who  had  blankets  had  gone  to  rest,  a group  would  gather  around 
the  stove  and  begin  to  tell  stories.  I would  sometimes  join  them,  and 
listen  for  a great  part  of  the  night  to  some  of  the  finest  fairy  tales  and 
most  romantic  legends  it  has  ever  been  my  fortune  to  hear.  But  the  ap- 
proach of  day  took  all  the  romance  out  of  them,  and  restored  them  to 
their  original  unlovely  character. 

All  of  this  was  endurable  for  a time  as  a contrast  to  former  life,  but 
we  soon  wearied  of  the  perpetual  noise  and  ferment.  We  had  learned 
that  on  the  ground  floor  there  was  a large  room  occupied  mainly  by  South- 
ern Union  men.  We  would  have  much  preferred  being  put  with  our 
own  soldiers,  but  as  that  could  not  be,  it  seemed  more  natural  to  be  with 
those  who  held  the  same  allegiance  as  ourselves,  and  we  petitioned  to  be 
removed — without,  however,  much  expectation  that  our  wishes  would  be 
heeded.  But  after  some  delay  we  were  taken  down  as  we  had  desired, 
and  then  began  a more  pleasant  part  of  our  Richmond  experience.  The 
new  room  was  not  half  so  large  as  the  last,  and  was  well  filled,  indeed 
crowded,  having  about  eighty  men  in  it.  It  was  dark,  and  very  low,  with 
many  supporting  columns,  causing  it  to  look  more  like  a cellar  than  a 
room.  The  windows  being  on  the  level  of  the  street  or  a little  below, 
were  not  only  covered  with  bars  but  with  woven  wire  as  well.  The  refuse 
stems  of  the  tobacco  manufactured  in  this  building  had  been  thrown  into 
the  room  till  they  covered  it  to  the  depth  of  many  inches.  This  was  con- 
sidered a great  prize  by  the  chewers  and  smokers  of  our  party.  The  dirt 
mingled  in  nearly  equal  quantities  with  it  did  not  daunt  them  ! 

But  as  an  abundant  compensation  for  all  these  disagreeable  accompani- 
ments of  our  new  apartment,  it  had  a stove  and  was  warm  throughout,  so 
that  now  the  terrible  suffering  with  cold,  which  those  only  can  appreciate 
who  have  endured  it,  was  near  an  end.  There  was  also  comparatively 
good  society  here,  men  who  were  intensely  patriotic,  and  not  a few  of  a 
higher  order  of  intelligence.  In  talking  with  these  men  and  hearing  their 
adventures  and  opinions,  I passed  many  a pleasant  hour  and  gained  a 
great  insight  into  the  character  of  Southern  Unionists, 


390 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


Among. others  I became  much  attached  to  a Scotchman  named  Miller. 
When  the  war  opened  he  was  living  in  Texas  and  witnessed  the  manner 
in  which  that  State  was  driven  into  secession.  The  first  part  of  the  plan 
upon  which  the  conspirators  wrought  was  to  excite  rumors  of  a negro  in- 
surrection in  a certain  neighborhood ; next  they  would  place  poison  and 
weapons  in  certain  localities  and  find  them  as  if  by  accident.  This 
would  be  done  several  times  till  the  public  mind  was  in  a perfect  panic. 
Then  some  slaves  were  sele-cted  and  whipped  till  the  torture  made  them 
confess  their  own  guilty  and  also  implicate  the  leading  opponents  of  seces- 
sion, This  was  enough.  The  slaves  and  Unionists  were  hung  together 
on  the  nearest  trees,  and  all  opposition  to  the  rebel  cause  thus  crushed 
out.  The  alliance  between  slavery  and  treason,  as  in  this  instance,  was 
the  most  natural  in  the  world.  Miller  himself  was  captured  on  suspicion 
of  being  a Union  man — he  had  settled  in  the  country  but  a little  while 
before  this  time — and  narrowly  escaped  hanging  with  his  associates.  He 
was  sent  east  to  be  tried  for  treason  Twice  he  made  his  escape,  once 
travelling  over  a hundred  miles,  and  each  time,  when  captured,  telling  a 
different  story.  Finally  he  represented  himself  as  a citizen  from  New  York. 
When  brought  before  the  magistrate  in  Castle  Thunder  he  merely  said, 

“ I told  you  all  about  my  case  before.^* 

The  Judge,  who  had  been  drinking,  thought  that  he  must  have  examined 
him  before,  and  sent  him  back  without  further  question.  Several  other 
times  he  was  brought  out,  but  gave  the  same  answer,  and  was  at  length 
exchanged. 

I was  here. also  much  interested  in  Charles  Marsh,  a young  and  ad- 
venturous scout  from  the  Potomac  Army,  whose  history  was  most  remark- 
able, Since  the  close  of  the  war  I once  met  him  at  Steubenville  on  his 
way  to  Chicago  to  unearth  some  revenue  frauds.  He  was  then  serving  as 
a government  detective.  He  recognized  me  at -once,  and  recalled  with  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  our  adventures  in  Castle  Thunder.  But  it  was  less 
pleasant  to  endure  than  to  remember  them  ! 

Marsh  had  been  sent  into  the  Confederate  lines  to  burn  a certain 
bridge,  if  he  found  it  unguarded,  and  to  collect  important  information. 
He  succeeded  in  the  latter  only,  and  while  on  his  return  was  captured, 
with  papers  in  his  possession,  which  clearly  established  his  character  as  a 
spy  He  was  immediately  started  toward  Richmond  with  a strong  guard. 
On  the  way  the  sergeant  in  charge  got  a chance  to  indulge  in  liquor,  a 
practice  to  which  he  was  addicted,  and  became  so  careless  that  while  Charlie 
was  not  able  to  escape  on  account  of  the  men  who  were  not  drunk,  by 
watching  his  opportunity  he  managed  to  slip  from  the  breast  pocket  of 
the  sergeant  the  packet  of  papers  containing  the  charges  against  him,  with 
directions  for  his  disposal,  and  dropped  them  into  a pond  over  which  the 
road  ran. 


Last  Experiences  m Rebel  Prisons, 


391 


Great  was  the  perplexity  of  the  sergeant  on  arriving  at  Richmond  to 
find  his  papers  gone.  He  could  only  report  that  he  was  to  bring  the 
prisoner,  who  was  a bad  customer,  to  Richmond,  and  that  he  had  lost  his 
papers  on  the  way.  The  authorities  arrested  him  for  neglect  of  duty,  and 
put  Charlie  in  the  room  with  us,  sending  back  to  the  sergeanCs  regiment 
for  information.  It  was  only  a day  or  two  till  the  evidence  arrived,  and 
the  commanding  officer  promptly  entered  our  room  with  a guard  and  called 


Taking  a Dead  Man’s  Name. 


in  a decided  manner  for  Charles  Marsh.  The  latter  well  understood  what 
this  meant  and  made  good  use  of  his  last  chance  for  life.  It  so  happened 
that  a man  had  expired  in  the  night — an  occurrence  not  at  all  uncommon 
— and  Marsh  at  once  answered  in  a careless  tone 

O,  that  fellow  died  last  night,”  and  pointed  to  the  corpse. 

The  purpose  was  instantly  recognized  by  all  in  the  prison  who  knew 
either  of  the  two  men,  and  no  one  wished  to  interfere.  The  officer  was 
thrown  completely  off  his  guard. 


392 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


“ Died  has  he  ! the  rascal  ! We’d  ^a  hung  him  this  week,  and  saved  him 
the  trouble,’^  growled  the  baffled  magnate,  and  took  his  departure 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Charlie  took  care  that  when  the  morning  ^ 
report  was  made  out  “Charles  Marsh,  died”  was  duly  entered,  or  that 
he  continued  to  answer  to  the  dead  man’s  name.  He  was  finally  exchanged 
under  the  name  which  he  had  thus  fortunately  borrowed  ! 

A few  occurrences  about  this  time  throw  a lurid  light  on  the  design  of 
the  Confederates  in  making  the  hardships  of  prison  life  as  great  as  pos- 
sible. There  was  always  the  endeavor  to  persuade  the  prisoners  to  enlist 
in  the  rebel  army.  As  all  able-bodied  men  outside  were  conscripted,  it  was  ^ 
but  natural  that  every  means  should  be  employed  to  make  the  Union  pris- 
oners and  others  enlist  also.  On  their  part,  however,  the  threat  of  impris- 
onment had  lost  its  power,  for  it  was  already  realized;  but  their  sufferings 
might  be  aggravated  till  the  sufferer  was  willing  to  yield  and  go  out  to  fight 
the  battles  of  his  tormentors.  Of  course  such  allegiance  was  not  very  hearty, 
but  abundance  of  military  executions  were  relied  upon  to  maintain  dis-  ^ 
cipline  and  prevent  desertion.  One  day  a Tennessee  Congressman  visited 
our  prison  and  made  an  address.  He  employed  the  usual  arguments, 
appealing  especially  to  the  Tennesseans  to  return  to  their  rightful  allegi- 
ance and  enter  the  army;  promising  that  all  would  be  forgiven,  and  that 
they  would  share  in  the  glory  of  Southern  independence;  adding  that  the 
North  was  weary  of  the  war,  and  that  a powerful  party  there  was  favoring 
peace,  so  that  it  could  only  be  a short  time  till  the  war  was  over,  and  then 
if  they  were  still  prisoners,  they  might  expect  to  be  hardly  dealt  with.  To 
men  who  had  spent  from  six  to  eighteen  or  even  more  months  in  prison, 
these  were  powerful  arguments.  In  one  room  over  twenty  yielded;  how 
many  of  them  were  afterward  shot  for  desertion,  or  escaped  to  their 
native  mountains,  I do  not  know. 

But  the  great  majority  remained  faithful  to  the  Union,  saying  that  they  < 
could  die  for  the  old  flag  if  they  could  do  nothing  more.  This  “ ob- 
stinacy ” excited  the  ire  of  the  authorities  and  caused  us  even  greater 
suffering;  for  while  it  is  probable  that  our  band  would  not  have  been  per- 
mitted to  enlist  if  we  had  applied,  we  were  sure  to  have  part  in  all  genera^ 
prison  inflictions.  One  penalty  was  that  we  should  all  be  put  at  menial  work 
like  the  negroes, — forced  under  bayonets  to  do  all  the  disagreeable  service  ^ 
of  the  prison.  The  work  itself  was  nothing  to  most  of  us,  but  the  manner 
of  it  made  the  infliction  most  galling,  especially  as  it  v/as  confined  to  Union 
men,  while  rebel  deserters  and  criminals  were  exempt.  Some  obeyed; 
but  others  would  not.  The  former  complained  of  the  latter,  and  to  remedy 
the  inequality,  a list  was  made  out  and  every  man  given  his  turn.  One 
of  the  first  called  under  the  new  arrangement  was  a fine  young  Tennesseean 
named  McCoy.  He  answered  boldly:  ' 

“ I’m  not  going.  ” 


Last  Experiences  in  Rebel  Prisons, 


393 


“What’s  the  matter  demanded  the  sergeant. 

“ I didn^t  come  hereto  work;  and  if  you  can’t  afford  to  board  me 
^ without,  you  may  send  me  home,”  replied  the  fearless  man. 

“Well,  well^  you’ll  be  attended  to,’’  growled  the  sergeant,  and  pro- 
ceeded with  his  roll.  Four  others  likewise  refused  and  were  at  once  re- 
ported to  Captain  Alexander,  who  commanded  them  to  be  put  into  “the 
cell.”  This  was  a dark  place  by  the  open  court,  only  about  four  feet  wide 
and  six  or  seven  high.  It  had  no  floor  except  the  damp  earth,  and  was 
utterly  destitute  of  light  and  air,  except  a little  that  came  under  the  door. 

• Here  they  were  informed  that  they  should  remain  till  they  agreed  to  go 
to  work,  or  died. 

But  we  found  another  alternative  for  them.  There  was  a piece  of  file 
and  a scrap  of  stove  pipe  in  our  room,  and  watching  our  opportunity — after 
buying  a piece  of  candle  from  the  Commissary, — we  slipped  to  the  door 
when  taken  out  to  wash  in  the  morning,  and  passed  the  articles  under  the 

• door.  When  they  received  these,  their  objections  to  working  vanished 
at  once  ! They  began  to  dig  most  faithfully  at  a tunnel,  and  the  second 
day  toward  morning  they  broke  upward  through  the  crust  of  ground  out- 
side the  prison  walls.  The  one  who  had  been  selected  to  lead,  worked  his 
way  through  the  tunnel,  and  coming  to  the  open  air,  glided  noiselessly 
away.  As  he  was  never  heard  of  again  the  presumption  is  that  he  reached 

^ the  Union  lines,  for  if  any  prisoner  was  recaptured,  it  was  sure  to  be  pub- 
lished by  the  authorities  very  prominently  in  the  prisons.  The  next  man 
was  just  coming  out  also,  when  the  barking  of  a dog  that  happened  to  be 
prowling  around  called  the  attention  of  the  guard  that  way.  The  man  see- 
ing he  was  discovered,  managed  to  dodge  back  into  his  hole,  and  thus 
escaped  a shot  from  the  guard.  No  more  could  go;  but  this  incident  pre- 
vented the  confinement  of  any  others  in  that  cell. 

• They  were  not  yet  ready  to  give  up  the  design  of  showing  us  off  in  the 
character  of  servants.  I happened  to  be  on  the  next  list  that  was  pre- 
pared, and  this  time  it  was  rumored  that  the  task  was  to  dig  in  Captain 
Alexander’s  garden,  which  we  would  have  been  obliged  to  perform  with 
an  armed  guard'  standing  over  us.  I would  have  greatly  liked  to  be  for 
a little  time  in  the  open  day,  and  would  not  have  at  all  objected  to  dig- 

» ging  a little.  In  fact,  if  volunteers  for  work  had  been  called  for,  they 
would  have  been  promptly  furnished  from  those  who  wanted  to  get  out  of 
prison  for  a brief  time.  But  to  be  forced  to  labor  seemed  to  the  Southern- 
ers among  us  to  be  putting  them  on  the  level  of  the  negroes,  and  against 
such  degradation  their  pride  of  race  revolted.  This  was  not  so  sore  a point 
with  us,  but  as  regularly  enlisted  United  States  soldiers,  our  professional 
^ pride  was  wounded  just  as  badly;  so  it  amounted  to  the  same  thing  and  we 
were  equally  determined.  When  we  discussed  the  matter  and  counted  the 
cost,  the  refusal  became  general,  and  the  issue  was  thus  made  up.  Nothing 


394 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


was  done  that  clay,  but  the  next  we  were  ordered  out  in  the  yard  as  a 
punishment.  The  place  was  perfectly  bare,  about  fifty  by  twenty  yards  in 
size,  having  the  prison  for  boundaries  on  two  sides  and  high  brick  walls  on 
the  other  two.  Sentinels  were  on  the  tops  of  these  walls  as  well  as  in  the 
streets  outside. 

The  full  cruelty  of  this  infliction  is  only  apparent  on  consideration  of 
all  the  circumstances.  We  were  enfeebled  by  long  confinement,  and  many 
actually  sick.  Our  clothing  was  very  slight  and  thin.  There  was  not  an 
ov^ercoat  in  the  party,  with  the  exception  of  the  old  one  given  me  by 
Captain  Fry,  which  had  been  used  for  seat,  quilt,  and  bed  by  day  and  night, 
till  little  of  it  was  left.  I was  perhaps  about  the  average  in  dress,  and  I 
had  a flannel  shirt,  a pair  of  pants  somewhat  torn,  and  a thin  spring  coat. 
The  latter  had  a dog  bite  taken  out  of  the  skirt  as  a reminder  of  the  begin- 
ning of  our  adventure  at  Shelbyville.  All  had  been  worn  out  some  months 
before.  I had  also  what  passed  for  shoes  and  stockings,  but  the  soles 
were  completely  worn  out  of  the  shoes  and  the  feet  out  of  the  stockings. 
It  was  a cold  day  in  February,  and  was  raining.  The  wind  also  was  high, 
laden  with  torrents  of  rain,  and  swept  around  the  corners  of  the  jail  with 
such  drenching  force  as  almost  to  rob  us  of  sensation.  There  was  no  shelter, 
and  in  a few  moments  we  were  wet  through.  Water  stood  everywhere  an 
inch  or  two  deep  in  the  yard,  and  was  soon  tramped  up  into  mud,  through 
which  we  splashed  as  we  paced  to  and  fro  in  a vain  effort  to  keep  warm. 
We  could  scarcely  prevent  ourselves  from  being  actually  chilled  to  death  ! 

Here  v/e  remained  from  early  in  the  morning  till  late  in  the  evening. 
We  were  told  that  we  would  have  to  stay  there  till  we  froze  to  death  or 
agreed  to  v/ork.  The  latter  we  resolved  never  to  do.  The  former  was 
prevented  by  relief  from  a most  unexpected  source. 

It  was  our  intention  when  night  came  to  try  to  force  the  guard  on  the 
top  of  the  wall,  though  there  was  little  hope  of  success  from  want  of  means 
to  get  up  promptly;  but  we  had  nothing  to  lose,  for  as  night  came  on 
the  rain  turned  to  sleet,  and  it  was  unlikely  that  any  of  us  could  have 
survived  till  morning. 

But  the  old  Commissary,  who  had  been  so  harsh  on  our  arrival,  and 
who  continued  to  grumble  at  us  on  all  occasions,  but  who  was  really 
almost  the  only  one  of  the  officers  who  was  ever  known  to  do  a kindness, 
came  out  to  see  us  several  times;  each  time  he  went  back  shaking  his 
head  and  grumbling;  we  were  still  so  much  influenced  by  his  rough  ways 
that  we  thought  he  was  gloating  over  our  sufferings.  But  in  the  evening 
he  went  to  the  tyrant  Alexander  and  remonstrated  with  him  in  most  pro- 
fane and  energetic  fashion,  exclaiming: 

“ If  you  have  anything  against  those  fellows  bring  them  to  trial  and 
hang  or  shoot  them — no  doubt  they  deserve  it;  but  don’t  keep  them  out 
there  to  die  by  inches,  for  it  will  disgrace  us  all  over  the  world. 


Last  Experiences  in  Rebel  Prisons, 


395 


This  logic,  enforced  in  various  forms  and  with  much  profanity,  pro- 
duced a good  effect,  and  the  order  was  given  to  send  us  back  to  our  room^ 

t which,  with  its  warm  fire,  never  seemed  more  pleasant.  But  the  result 
of  that  day  of  terrible  freezing  did  not  soon  pass  away.  The  grateful 
warmth  of  the  room  produced  a stupor  from  which  most  of  us  awoke  sick. 
Several  died  very  soon  after.  I have  always  since  been  on  the  list  of  in- 
valids, and  vividly  remember  that  day  of  exposure  as  about  the  severest 
merely  physical  suffering  of  the  wliole  year. 

When  we  first  entered  this  room  we  had  a striking  instance  of  the 

• manner  in  which  the  way  of  duty  is  often  opened  to  those  who  are  willing 
to  follow.  While  up  stairs  in  our  own  little  apartment  we  had  continued 
the  custom  of  having  prayers,  morning  and  evening.  But  when  we  were 
put  with  the  great  crowd  here  it  really  seemed  as  if  there  was  no  oppor- 
tunity, and  that  the  better  way  would  be  for  us  to  do  our  praying  and  Bible 
reading  privately, — ajt  least  we  did  not  find  it  hard  to  persuade  ourselves 

• that  as  we  probably  would  not  be  permitted  to  pray  or  sing  publicly,  we 
might  as  well  save  ourselves  from  ridicule  by  not  attempting  it.  But  the 
most  profane  man  in  our  party  of  Tennesseeans  prevented  this  cowardly 
surrender.  Mr.  Pierce, whose  split  head  made  him  such  a noticeable  figure, 
climbed  on  a box  toward  evening,  and,  by  dint  of  vigorous  calling  and 
stamping,  succeeded  in  getting  the  attention  of  the  assembly.  He  then 

^ .told  them  that  he  wished  to  propose  a matter  of  general  interest.  All  lis- 
tened. He  continued: 

We  have  a number  of  preachers  among  us  who  are  accustomed  to 
sing  and  pray  and  read  the  Bible  out  loud  every  morning  and  evening. 
Now  I do  very  little” — with  a great  oath  added — of  that  kind  of  thing 
myself;  but  I like  to  see  it  going  on;  and  I think  it  will  do  none  of  you 
any  harm  if  we  have  them  do  the  same  thing  down  here.  I propose  that 

• we  invite  them  to  go  ahead.” 

The  motion  was  instantly  seconded.  In  the  prison  almost  anything 
which  breaks  the  terrible  monotony  of  the  long  days  is  likely  lo  be  popu- 
lar, and  when  Pierce  put  the  question,  there  was  a very  hearty  Ay,”  and 
no  negative  voices  at  all.  Then  he  stepped  down  and,  turning  to  me,  said  : 

“ You  hear  the  decision.  Now  go  ahead.” 

» If  I had  wished  to  evade  duty  there  was  no  opportunity.  But  I 
did  not,  for  I had  felt  far  from  easy  at  the  thought  of  abandoning  a 
practice  which  had  been  taken  up  in  the  darkest  hour  of  our  history,  and 
which  had  done  so  much  since  to  support  and  comfort  us.  There  were 
no  “ preachers  ” in  the  technical  sense  with  us,  but  wasting  no  time  in  dis- 
cussing that  question,  we  formed  a group  near  one  of  the  windows  and 

^ read,  sung,  and  prayed.  During  the  first  and  second  we  had  no  difficulty, 
and  I even  thought  there  were  manifestations  of  interest  and  pleasure  on 
the  part  of  many;  but  when  it  came  to  prayer,  there  were  a good  many 


396 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


very  fervent  responses  at  wrong  places,  and  the  disposition  to  turn  the 
whole  matter  into  sport  on  the  part  of  a dozen  or  more  of  the  rudest  char- 
acters. However,  as  the  way  had  been  opened  for  a beginning  we  did  not 
despair  of  being  able  to  continue.  In  the  morning  there  was  the  same 
trouble,  but  I carefully  marked  the  one  who  seemed  to  be  leading  in  the,- 
irreverence,  and  determined  to  make  an  effort  during  the  day  to  bring 
him  to  a better  disposition. 

This  young  man  had  quite  a history.  I had  noticed  him  before  we 
had  been  brought  down  stairs  as  the  victim  of  one  of  the  merciless  pun- 
ishments that  were  fearfully  common.  Being  guilty  of  some  infraction  of 
prison  discipline,  the  lash  was  ordered.  He  was  tied  up  to  a post  in  the 
larger  room,  that  all  the  prisoners  might  have  the  benefit  of  the  lesson, 
and  the  work  began.  He  never  uttered  a word.  His  silence — so  differ- 
ent from  the  shrieks  and  groans  and  pleadings  that  were  common,  es- 
pecially among  the  negroes, — seemed  to  touch  the  barbarous  Alexander, 
and  he  suspended  the  lash  before  the  full  number  prescribed  had  been 
given.  When  the  young  man  was  untied,  he  turned  to  the  officer  and  said, 
“ Are  you  through  ? ” The  other  said  he  was.  Then,  sir,”  he  continued, 
“ I want  to  tell  you,  it  is  a shame  for  you  to  whip  a man  in  that  manner.^’ 
So  far  from  being  offended  at  this  plain  and  truthful  speech,  the  latter 
seemed  to  be  pleased  by  such  marvellous  powers  of  endurance,  and  ex- 
claiming, “Well,  you  are  a man,  anyway,”  sent  for  some  better  clothing, 
which  he  gave  to  the  sufferer,  who  was  afterward  put  in  the  room  below, 
a few  days  earlier  than  ourselves. 

During  our  second  day  in  the  lower  room  I managed  to  get  into  con- 
versation with  him,  learning  something  of  his  history— he  was  but  a little 
more  than  seventeen,  though  large  and  strong- — and  in  return  gave  the  his- 
tory of  our  raid,  which  never  failed  to  command  the  fullest  attention. 
Then  he  told  me  that  his  relatives  were  all  dead,  except  one  sister  who  still 
lived  in  Canada,  his  native  place.  He  was  very  much  affected  when  he 
spoke  of  his  longing  to  see  her  once  more.  He  took  occasion  after  that 
to  talk  of  us  to  his  comrades,  and  we  had  no  more  disturbance  from  them. 

I wish  I was  able  to  tell  of  his  conversion  and  release,  but  I lost  sight  of 
him  soon  after. 

Having  formed  a beginning  for  religious  worship  in  the  prison,  quite 
a number  of  persons  came  to  us,  each  one  of  whom  had  supposed  that  he 
was  alone,  and  was  cherishing  his  religious  convictions  in  secret.  There 
were  two  or  three  Methodists,  nearly  the  same  number  of  Baptists  and 
one  or  two  of  nearly  all  the  principal  denominations.  A Roman  Catholic 
was  as  devoted  and  brotherly  as  any  other.  In  the  presence  of  the  fear- 
ful wickedness  by  which  we  were  surrounded,  both  within  and  without  the 
prisons,  distinctions  between  the  followers  of  Christ  seemed  very  slight 
indeed,  and  many  a dreary  hour  was  cheered  by  Christian  fellowship 


>1 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

» 

HOMEWARD  BOUND! 

ONE  day  there  was  a capital  sensation  in  our  prison.  We  were 
ordered  into  line,  and  the  names  of  our  railroad  party,  with  a few 
others,  were  called  over  and  checked.  Instantly  our  thoughts 
t were  busy  in  conjecture.  Were  we  to  be  moved  again,  and  thus  given  an 
opportunity  of  repairing  our  mistake  in  not  escaping  before  ? or  was  it 
worse  than  that  ? One  of  the  men  whose  name  had  not  been  called  made 
so  bold  as  to  ask  what  this  roll  was  for,  and  was  still  more  mystified  by 
the  apparently  frank  reply: 

“ We  can’t  tell,  for  this  list  comes  from  Yankee-land.’* 

From  “ Yankee-land  1 ” Then  we  were  not  forgotten,  but  our  own 
government  in  some  way  was  asking  after  us  ! It  was  good  to  be  remem- 
bered even  if  nothing  came  from  it.  Why  should  a list  with  our  names  be 
sent  from  the  North  ? The  whole  prison  was  in  a ferment  I 

It  was  just  about  this  time  that  Commissioner  Quid  assured  our  Com- 
missioner, Ludlow,  that  we  were  not  in  Richmond.  Did  he  answer  in  this 
manner  after  he  had  made  the  inquiry,  or  give  a positive  answer  first  and 
• inquire  afterward  ? This  is  the  dilemma  in  which  he  seems  placed.  We 
gave  no  equivocal  response.  Two  subjects  are  mentioned  in  the  follow- 
ing extract  from  his  letter:  Not  one  of  the  Tennessee  or  Ohio  men 

referred  to  in  one  of  your  letters  is  now  in  Richmond.  If  they  are  else- 
where they  will  be  delivered  to  you.  The  clothing,  etc.,  have  been  re- 
ceived, and  your  directions  have  been  complied  with.’^ 
ft  The  item  in  relation  to  exchange  seems  to  indicate  that  in  response  to 
a special  demand  our  release  had  been  promised,  if  we  could  only  be  fomid! 
But  from  events  it  seems  that  we  were  too  well  hidden  ! The  matter  of 
clothing,  however,  soon  assumed  a tangible  form. 

In  the  prison  a rumor  came  that  a general  exchange  of  political  and 
civilian  prisoners  was  in  contemplation.  We  talked  of  it  day  by  day, 
^ but  as  one  truce-boat  after  another  came  and  went,  and  nothing  more  was 
heard,  hope  died  out  so  completely  that  at  length  every  one  who  hap- 
pened to  use  the  word  “ exchange  ” was  greeted  with  a burst  of  derision. 


398 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


Yet  we  now  know  that  the  general  arrangement  for  this  purpose  was  con- 
cluded as  early  as  February.^ 

One  day  an  officer  came  into  the  room  and  asked  every  man  who  c 

claimed  United  States  protection  to  fall  into  line.  We  did  not  know 
how  much  protection  the  United  States  could  give  in  Richmond,  but  were  / 
determined  to  lose  nothing  for  want  of  claiming,  and  gathered  promptly 
into  line.  He  took  the  name  of  each  one,  and  said  we  were  to  get  a suit 
of  clothes  from  the  North.  This  would  have  been  most  welcome  news  if 
we  had  believed  it.  We  had  a strong  conviction  that  if  anything  of  the 
kind  was  sent  from  home  it  would  be  turned  over  to  the  use  of  the  Rebel 
army.  But  it  was  pleasant  to  find  that  the  thought  of  the  government 
was  turned  toward  its  unfortunate  citizens  imprisoned  in  a hostile  capital. 

1 presume  there  were  seventy-five  names  reported  as  in  allegiance  to  the 
Federal  Government — we  were  in  the  minority  in  this  prison — for  Captain 
Turner  writes^  to  Captain  Alexander: 

“ I send  you  according  to  Gen.  Winder’s  orders  boxes  marked  as  fob  < 
lows:  Seventy-five  trousers,  seventy-five  pairs  boots,  seventy-five  flannel 
shirts,  and  seventy-five  jackets.” 

These  did  not  all  reach  us.  What  became  of  them  is  more  than  I can 
venture  to  say.  All  of  the  Federal  prisoners  got  something,  but  none  of 
them  a full  suit.  One  man  would  have  a new  jacket,  another  would 
revel  in  a new  shirt.  My  own  share  was  a pair  of  boots.  I was  rather  ^ 
dissatisfied  at  first,  but  still  had  the  remnants  of  Fry’s  overcoat,  and  on 
reflecting  how  extremely  useful  the  boots  would  be  if  we  should  happen  to 
escape,  I became  reconciled.  The  prison  officers  also  helped  to  comfort 
those  most  in  need  by  declaring  that  more  would  soon  be  received  and 
make  out  a full  suit  for  us  all.  No  more  ever  came;  but  the  new  clothing, 
however  inadequate,  was  a source  of  wonderful  pride.  It  was  the  token 
that  our  nation  had  not  forgotten  us.  ^ 

But  better  things  were  to  come.  There  is  one  day  of  imprisonment 
which  stands  out  amid  all  the  miserable  prison  record  like  a lily  in  a cluster 
of  weeds  or  a diamond  in  a heap  of  garbage.  Through  all  the  mists  and 
winters  of  twenty-five  years  it  shines  in  clear  and  unfading  radiance.  To 
have  made  sure  of  such  a day  any  of  our  number  would  gladly  have  sac- 
rificed a right  hand  or  led  the  van  in  the  deadliest  charge  of  the  civil  war.  t- 

A little  before  dark  on  the  evening  of  the  17th  of  March,  we  were  sitting 
around  the  stove  lazily  but  not  indifferently  discussing  the  siege  of  Vicks- 
burg, and  my  friend  Miller  had  just  shown  with  all  a Scotchman’s  intel- 
ligence and  positiveness  how  the  town  might  infallibly  be  captured,  when 
an  officer  entered  in  haste  and  gave  the  strange  order,  ‘‘  All  who  want  to 


‘ War  Records,  Quid  to  Ludlow,  Feb.  2d,  1863. 
* War  Records,  Feb,  iQth,  1863, 


A 


Homeward  Bound, 


399 


go  to  the  United  States,  fall  into  line,  and  come  to  the  office.”  There 
was  a rush  and  a scramble  to  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  no  line  was  ever 
formed  more  promptly.  We  all  believed  that  we  were  already  in  the 
United  States,  but  had  no  objection  to  be  still  more  so;  and  it  was  with  a 
good  many  questionings  that  we  marched  out  of  the  guarded  room-door, 
across  the  court  yard,  and  as  many  of  us  as  could  enter  at  once,  into  the 
office.  The  proper  officers  were  prepared  with  blank  forms,  and  they 
filled  out  rapidly  the  oaths  of  parole  binding  the  signers  not  to  serve 
against  the  Confederacy  until  regularly  declared  exchanged.  Even  when 
I saw  this  good  work  progressing  I feared  that  the  opportunity  was  only 
for  citizens  of  our  company.  To  test  the  matter,  I pressed  forward  and 
gave  my  name,  fully  expecting  to  hear  The  engine  thieves  canT  go;^’ 
but  to  my  surprise  no  objection  was  made.  For  a moment  a delicious 
hope  thrilled  through  my  veins — a vision  of  happiness  and  home,  dazzling 
as  a summer  flash  of  lightning,  shone  forth  before  my  eyes — but  it  faded 
in  the'  remembrance  of  our  Atlanta  deception. 

I called  others  of  our  party,  who  also  went  in,  gave  their  names  fully, 
and  still  no  objection  was  made.  The  work  of  paroling  went  forward,  those 
who  had  signed  being  sent  back  to  the  prison  room  between  the  files  of 
guards,  who  looked  far  more  pleasant  than  usual,  as  if  they  sympathized — 
and  I have  no  doubt  many  of  them  did — in  our  deliverance.  We  were 
told  to  be  ready  to  start  North  at  four  o’clock  the  next  morning.  We 
could  have  been  ready  in  four  seconds  ! But  we  were  unutterably  glad  to 
have  it  brought  even  that  near.  At  times  a deadly  misgiving  arose  for 
a moment  that  all  this  might  prove  a delusion;  but  the  actual  signing  of 
the  parole  was  a strong  anchor  to  our  hope.  The  obligation  in  such  cases 
is  mutual:  the  soldier  is  not  to  serve  until  a man  has  been  obtained  for 
him,  and  the  government  is  to  send  him  to  his  own  lines  as  soon  as  prac- 
ticable. In  previous  deceptions  they  had  never  gone  so  far  as  this;  and 
we  felt  assured  that  they  would  not  now,  if  they  had  intended  to  cheat  us. 

As  might  be  expected,  that  evening  was  one  of  wild  excitement. 
Nearly  everybody  in  our  room  acted  like  men  bereft  of  reason.  Some  danced 
and  bounded  over  the  floor,  embracing  each  other  and  pledging  kind  remem- 
brances. Others  shouted  till  they  were  too  hoarse  to  shout  any  more. 
Others  sat  down  and  wept  The  deliverance  was  so  great  that  they  were 
completely  overpowered.  But  a few  were,  for  some  reason,  not  permitted 
to  go,  and  we  deeply  pitied  them.  I remembered  when  we  had  been  left  by 
our  comrades  on  our  arrival  in  Richmond  more  than  three  months  before, 
and  my  heart  bled  for  these  forsaken  ones,  as  they  sat  cheerless  and 
gloomy,  seeming  amid  the  general  joy  to  be  more  wretched  than  ever. 
It  is  one  of  the  contradictions  of  prison  life  that  while  comrades  will  nearly 
always  help  each  other  to  escape,  and  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  deliver- 
ance for  any  one,  yet  when  either  actually  takes  place,  those  who  are  left 


400  Daring  and  Suffering. 

behind  suffer  the  keenest  pain — feeling  an  emotion  not  unlike  the  pangs  of 
jealousy. 

It  was  near  midnight  before  we  became  calm  enough  to  offer  up  our 
usual  evening  devotions.  But  when  the  roomful  of  excited  men  were  still 
at  last,  wearied  out  by  the  very  excess  of  joy,  and  overcome  by  the  quiet- 
ness which  ever  follows  powerful  emotion,  we  knelt  in  prayer.  Many  more 
than  the  usual  number  assembled  with  us  in  the  corner  of  the  room  where 
we  always  gathered.  The  prayer  was  one  of  overmastering  thankfulness. 
When  we  remembered  all  the  sufferings  through  which  we  had  passed  it 
seemed  as  if  we  could  never  cease  to  be  grateful.  We  asked  God  for 
strength  to  bear  every  trial ; but  we  also  implored  with  a fervor  and  sincerity 
which  few  can  realize,  that  he  would  not  allow  our  bright  and  vivid  hopes 
to  be  disappointed  and  us  to  be  dashed  back  from  the  paradise  of  liberty. 
And  we  asked  with  no  little  solicitude  for  strength  to  continue  in  His  service 
when  no  longer  confined  within  prison  walls,  so  that  the  precious  posses- 
sion we  had  found  in  the  darkness  might  not  pass  away  in  the  light;  tnus 
composed  we  lay  down  to  sleep  and  await  the  event. 

How  was  our  most  unexpected  participation  in  this  exchange  brought 
about  ? It  seems  from  the  correspondence  that  there  was  an  inquiry  from 
the  Federal  side  and  a strong  desire  that  we  should  be  embraced  in  the  pro- 
visions of  any  cartel  of  citizens.  A denial  of  our  presence  in  Richmond  fob 
lowed.  But  the  matter  was  still  urged  from  the  North.  Finally  the  exchange 
was  completed  with  the  promise  that  we  should  be  included,  if  we  could  be 
found.  The  tone  as  well  as  the  wording  of  the  correspondence  reveals  a 
strong  wish  on  the  rebel  side  to  complete  the  exchange  but  to  get  all  possi- 
ble advantage  of  the  Federals  in  it.  That  the  policy  of  the  Confederate 
government  was  in  all  things  relating  to  exchange  of  prisoners  high- 
minded  and  honorable,  would  hardly  be  the  opinion  of  one  who  carefully 
reads  the  following  remarkable  letter.  There  are  many  others  in  the  War 
Records  that  breathe  the  same  spirit.  It  was  sent  to  Richmond  on  the 
afternoon  of  March  17,  and  immediately  there  began  a great  search  by 
the  Confederate  authorities  for  the  necessary  number  of  prisoners  in  order 
to  prevent  some  of  their  own  men  that  they  were  very  desirous  of  secur- 
ing from  being  carried  North  again.  It  is  the  opinion  of  the  writer  that 
our  party  would  hardly  have  passed  through  if  the  whole  affair  had  been 
more  deliberate;  but  as  the  orders  were  for  starting  at  four  in  the  morning 
and  it  was  then  evening,  there  was  so  little  time  for  consultation  that 
we  slipped  through  their  fingers. 


“ City  Point,  March  17th,  1863. 

“Brig.  Gen.  Winder, 

“ Sir  : — A flag  of  truce  boatTias  arrived  with  350  political  prisoners,  Gen.  Barrow  and 
several  other  prominent  men  being  among  them. 

“ I wish  you  to  send  me  at  four  o’clock  Wednesday  morning,  all  the  military  prison^ 


Homeward  Bound, 


401 


ers  (except  officers),  and  all  the  political  prisoners  you  have.  If  any  of  the  political  pris- 
oners have  on  hand  proof  enough  to  convict  them  of  being  spies  or  of  having  committed 
other  offenses  which  should  subject  them  to  punishment,  so  state  after  their  names.  Also 
state,  whether  you  think,  under  the  circumstances,  they  should  be  released.  The  arrange- 
ment I have  made  works  largely  in  our  favor.  We  get  rid  of  a set  of  iniserable  zvretches 
and  receive  so??ie  of  the  best  material  I ever  saw. 

“Tell  Capt.  Turner  to  put  down  on  the  list  of  political  prisoners  the  names  of  Edward 
B.  Eggling  and  Eugenia  Hammermister.  The  President  is  anxious  they  should  get  off. 
They  are  here  now.  This.^  of  course,  is  between  ourselves.  If  you  have  any  political 
female  prisoner  whom  you  can  send  off  safely  to  keep  her  company,  I would  like  you  to 
send  her. 

“Two  hundred  and  odd  more  political  prisoners  are  now  on  their  way. 

“ Yours  truly, 

“ Robert  Ould.” 

“ Endorsement  : — Send  all  called  for  in  this  unless  they  are  charged  with  criminal 
offenses. 

“John  H.  Winder.” 

It  was  not  easy  to  sleep  that  last  night  in  Castle  Thunder.  Fancy  was 
too  busy,  peopling  her  fairy  landscapes,  picturing  the  groups  that  awaited 
us  beyond  that  boundary  which  for  nearly  a year  had  frowned  before  us, 
gloomy  and  impassable  as  the  river  of  death.  But  even  as  we  are  revel- 
ling in  these  anticipations,  what  unbidden  fears  spring  up  to  darken  the 
prospect  and  dim  the  brightness  of  our  hopes  ! How  many  of  the  friends 
at  home  whose  love  was  our  life  may  be  no  more  ! For  a year  not  a 
whisper  had  been  heard  of  private  news^  and  we  trembled  as  we  thought  of 
the  ravages  of  time  and  of  battle.  These  and  other  thoughts  whirled 
through  our  brains,  whether  sleeping  or  waking,  the  whole  of  that  ever- 
memorable  night.  They  were  only  banished  at  last  by  the  commanding 
officer,  who  stepped  into  the  door  long  before  the  morning  light  and  gave 
the  thrilling  order,  “ Get  up  and  prepare  for  your  journey  ! ” 

At  his  call  we  hurriedly  thronged  to  our  feet.  All  doubts  and 
fears  vanished.  It  was  true  ! Freedom  once  more  ! Our  terrible  captivity 
was  passed.  O joy!  Joy!  Joy  inexpressible  ! ! almost  too  wild  and 
delirious  for  earth  ! 

There  was  a hurrying  around  in  the  partial  darkness  left  by  the  glim- 
mering of  lights;  discordant  calling  of  names,  a careful  inspection  of  each 
man  to  see  that  none  went  but  those  intended;  and  then  we  formed  in  the 
courtyard  for  the  march  toward  freedom.  We  fell  into  two  lines  and  when 
all  was  ready  we  passed  again  into  the  office,  were  carefully  counted,  and 
then  with  bounding  hearts  passed  outward  through  the  dreaded  portals  of 
Castle  Thunder — the  same  portal  through  which  we  had  passed  inward moxo. 
than  three  months  before,  and  which  we  had  not  passed  in  the  interval — 
passed  outward  into  the  cool  but  free  night  air.  There  was  all  the  hope 
of  the  morning  in  it,  and  by  contrast  it  vividly  recalled  the  chill  morning 
of  our  arrival  in  Richmond. 

26 


402 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


We  halted  on  the  pavement  until  perfectly  formed,  and  then,  with  the 
guard,  marched  through  the  muddy,  unlighted  streets  for  many  squares. 
There  were  a number  of  sick  in  our  company,  but  not  one  of  them  was 
willing  to  be  left  behind;  and  as  the  rebels  had  neglected  to  provide  any 
conveyances,  we  helped  them — each  being  supported  between  two  stronger 
men,  and  thus  with  encircling  arms  they  were  able,  at  the  expense  of  much 
suffering  in  some  cases — to  accompany  us  the  weary  distance.  Two  or 
three  had  to  be  almost  wholly  carried,  but  the  burden  was  cheerfully  en- 
dured, upborne  as  we  all  were  on  the  wings  of  hope  and  exultation.  After 
we  were  seated  in  the  cars,  as  the  train  did  not  start  for  a little  time,  we 
managed  to  get  the  Richmond  Dispatch^  and  were  especially  interested  in 
a reference  to  our  departure  containing  the  following  words  : 


“ Included  in  the  list  of  citizen  prisoners”  (who  were  to  be  sent  North)  ‘‘are  also  a 
number  of  renegades  from  Tennessee  and  Kentucky,  some  of  whom  were  arrested  for 
bridge-burning,  engine-stealing,  and  similar  crimes  in  the  states  named.  The  departure  of 
these  prisoners  will  relieve  the  Confederate  Government  of  a considerable  item  of  expense.” 


The  name  applied  to  us  no  longer  had  the  old  sting,  and  we  could  not 
help  thinking  that  the  expense  might  have  been  saved  much  sooner. 

Seated  in  comparatively  comfortable  cars,  with  no  ropes  or  irons  upon 
us,  and  but  a weak  guard,  and  with  deep  peace  and  content  in  our  hearts, 
we  glided  out  of  the  rebel  capital — to  see  it  no  more  till  all  that  belonged 
to  rebel  power  had  passed  away  “ Like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a vision, 
and  left  not  a wrack  behind.”  The  unwonted  light  dazzled  our  eyes. 
The  motion  of  the  cars  was  an  intoxication.  This  was  happiness  indeed. 
The  thoughts  and  visions  of  the  night  were  lived  over  again  in  scarcely 
less  bright  waking  dreams.  I tried  to  look  at  the  country  though  which 
we  were  passing,  but  my  pre-occupation  was  so  great  that  I could  scarcely 
see  it  at  all. 

Petersburg  was  reached  with  no  notable  incident;  then  after  but  a short 
detention  we  moved  on  toward  City  Point.  As  the  train  passed  around  a 
curve  about  eleven  o’clock  we  saw  a very  large  steamboat  in  the  river;  we 
had  seen  none  such  since  we  left  our  own  Ohio.  But  there  was  something 
still  better  than  the  boat.  Waving  over  it  in  the  morning  breeze  was  the 
“ Flag  of  the  free.”  I seized  the  comrade  next  me  and  shouted,  “ Hur- 
rah, boys;  hurrah  ! there’s  our  flag  ! ” They  needed  no  prompting;  in- 
deed sorce  in  the  forward  cars  had  seen  it  sooner  than  I had.  Cheer 
after  cheer  went  up  from  the  whole  train;  some  of  the  guards  were  dis- 
contented at  our  vehemence,  and  said,  Stop  that  noise;  there’s  no  use 
in  making  such  a fuss;  ” but  we  did  not  stop.  This  was  the  first  time  we 
had  seen  that  banner  for  eleven  long  months,  and  it  rneant  to  us  life, 
home,  freedom,  country —everything  which  men  love;  and  tears  and  shouts 


Homcivard  Bound, 


403 


intermingled  till  we  drew  up  at  the  station,  but  a short  distance  from  the 
truce-boat. 

The  grossest  frauds  were  often  practiced  in  these  exchanges.  The  let- 
ter of  Col.  Quid  quoted  above  shows  how  they  were  willing  to  secretly  put 
down  names  for  the  mere  purpose  of  making  count,  and  how  they  gloated 
over  the  miserable  condition  of  those  who  were  exchanged  in  comparison 
with  the  good  material  they  got  instead.  There  were  many  striking  in- 
stances of  the  manner  in  which  this  principle  was  carried  out.  One 
which  occurred  here  will  well  illustrate  this:  A rebel  soldier  was  wounded 
in  the  head  at  the  first  battle  of  Manassas.  It  affected  his  brain  so  that  he 
was  incapable  of  performing  his  duty  as  a soldier  even  after  he  seemed 
physically  well.  He  was  confined  for  a short  time  in  Castle  Thunder, 
which  was  the  reason  of  our  knowing  the  case.  He  was  then  taken  to 
Camp  Lee  near  Richmond,  but  did  no  better.  Then  they  exchanged  him 
to  the  Federals  and  got  a sound  man  in  his  place  ! 

From  the  side  of  the  truce-boat.  State  of  Maine ^ there  issued  a long 
procession  of  prisoners^  three  hundred  and  fifty  in  number,  who  did  not 
seem  to  be  nearly  so  much  rejoiced  as  we  were.  They  were  formed  in 
line,  and  there  was  a calling  of  names,  a checking  of  lists,  with  inquiries 
about  special  officers,  for  what  seemed  to  me  a long  time.  Some  disputes 
arose,  but  I could  not  catch  the  words,  and  could  only  pray  silently  that 
all  might  be  arranged  in  such  manner  as  to  prevent  the  necessity  of  our 
going  back  to  Richmond.  I remember  somewhat  dimly  the  picture  pre- 
sented immediately  at  the  wharf  under  the  sunshine  of  -that  March  day. 
Of  more  distant  objects  I have  no  recollection  whatever.  In  fact,  I was 
dazed  almost  equally  by  the  brightness  of  open  daylight  and  by  the  happy 
coming  of  this  long-expected  day.  I could  not,  however,  help  being  struck 
by  the  contrast  between  the  sets  of  prisoners;  those  on  the  Confederate 
side  looked  strong  and  hearty;  their  clothing  was  whole,  neat,  and  clean: 
But  on  our  side  all  the  number  were  in  the  last  extremity  of  raggedness, 
dirt,  and  emaciation.  I have  totally  forgotten  whether  any  breakfast  was 
given  us  that  morning  or  not — a matter  of  small  moment  when  we  had 
been  obliged  to  starve  through  so  many  longer  journeys.  I do  not  wonder 
that  Col.  Quid  said:  “We  get  rid  of  a set  of  miserable  wretches,  and 
receive  some  of  the  best  material” — that  is  for  conscription  into  the  rebel 
army — “ I ever  saw.”  He  was  perfectly  right  as  far  as  appearance  went; 
but  some  of  that  motley  crowd  did  manage  to  do  effective  fighting,  and 
with  very  good  will,  against  their  former  oppressors  ! 

While  the  wrangling  over  details  was  still  going  on,  without,  as  far  as 
we  could  see,  any  prospect  of  termination,  the  order  was  suddenly  given 
us  to  “ Go  on  board.”  Most  promptly  it  was  obeyed.  It  meant  a great 
deal  for  us  to  be  actually  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  once  more.  But  not 
till  the  boat  cast  loose  and  swung  into  the  stream  did  we  count  ourselves 


404 


Daring  a7td  Suffering, 


truly  out  of  rebel  hands.  Then  we  felt  as  one  who  has  awakened  from  a 
hideous  nightmare  dream  to  find  that  all  its  shapes  of  horror  and  grinning 
fiends  have  passed  away,  and  that  he  is  in  the  wholesome  sunlight  again. 
The  blue  sky  above  us  was  heaven  indeed,  and  the  sunshine  pure  gold. 
Our  hearts  beat  glad  music  to  the  threshing  of  the  wheels  on  the  water^ 


knowing  that  each  stroke  was  placing  a greater  distance  between  us  and 
our  enemies. 

Then,  too,  the  hearty  welcome  with  which  we  were  greeted;  the  good 
cheer,  so  different  from  our  miserable  prison  fare;  and  the  kind  faces  smil- 
ing all  around,  showed  in  living  colors  that  we  were  free  men  again. 

In  regard  to  food,  the  great  difficulty  now  was  one  we  had  not  en- 
countered for  a year  past — that  of  over  eating  ! A year’s  famine  h^d  made 


Homeward  Bound, 


405 


us  terribly  hungry,  and  we  received  cautions  on  this  point  which  were  n^t 
unneedful.  Nothing  in  the  rations  was  more  enjoyed  than  the  tin  cup  of 
^ good  coffee  which  was  given  to  us  all — genuine  coffee  was  something  which 
we  had  not  tasted  inside  the  rebel  lines — and  I am  not  certain  that  I have 
found  any  as  good  since  ! No  place  on  the  boat  seemed  more  homelike 
than  the  engine  room^  where  I sat  and  ate  slowly  for  a long  time.  The 
working  of  the  strong  machinery  which  seemed  impelling  us  lovingly 
homeward  was  about  as  much  company  as  I wanted  for  the  time. 

Down  the  river  we  went  in  a delirious  dream  of  rapture  ! We  were 
• scarcely  conscious  of  passing  events.  Probably  no  emotion  on  earth  has 
greater  sweep  and  intensity  than  the  wild  throbbing  sensations  that  rush 
thick  and  fast  through  the  bosom  of  the  liberated  captive. 

Then  I roved  all  over  the  boat  in  the  mere  luxury  of  liberty.  There 
was  no  guard  following  me  with  gun  and  bayonet,  and  I caught  myself 
several  times  looking  round  to  see  what  had  become  of  him  ! To  walk 
g boldly  up  to  a door,  open  it,  and  go  out,  was  so  enjoyable  that  I did  it 
much  oftener  than  was  necessary,  for  the  triumph  of  doing  it  ! Our  party 
talked  little  with  each  other,  for  we  had  done  enough  of  that  in  prison, 
and  wished  rather  to  do  other  and  new  things;  but  in  passing  one  would 
say  to  another,  “Not  much  like  Castle  Thunder!'’  “Going  home  are 
you  ? ’’  “ Did  you  get  enough  to  eat ! ” etc. 


% 


% 


♦ 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

REPORTING  TO  SECRETARY  STANTON  AND  PRESIDENT 

LINCOLN.  * 

I HAVE  forgotten  almost  everything  that  took  place  on  this  homeward 
voyage,  if  indeed,  my  mind  was  not  too  nearly  in  the  condition  of  a 
waking  dream  to  receive  definite  impressions.  I saw  some  of  the 
great  gunboats  as  we  drew  near  the  mouth  of  James  River,  which  looked 
like  grim  sentinels  guarding  the  avenue  to  rebellion.  We  were  furnished  < 
comfortable  blankets,  and  when  tired  out,  as  much  by  unwonted  emotions 
as  by  physical  effort,  we  could  lie  down  and  slumber  at  our  will.  When 
rested  and  disposed  to  talk,  we  found  abundance  of  admiring  auditors 
ready  to  listen  to  as  much  of  our  story  as  we  chose  to  tell.  Thus  the 
time  passed  on  very  pleasantly. 

But  at  last  a dispute  arose  between  us  and  our  new  friends  which  ^ 
threatened  for  a short  time  to  mar  our  harmony.  One  of  our  party— 
Buffum,  I think — came  to  me  and  said,  “ Pittenger,  they  insist  on  our 
going  to  Annapolis  instead  of  to  Washington.  Is  that  right  ? ’^  I said 
“ No;  we  must  go  to  Washington,  and  it  will  be  better  to  do  it  at  once.'' 
Soon  others  came  saying,  ‘^The  word  is  that  all  the  soldiers  must  go  to 
Annapolis,  while  the  citizens  can  go  there  or  to  Washington  as  they 
please."  I inquired  as  to  who  gave  the  orders  and  learned  that  it  was  one  ^ 
of  the  (Officers  who  was  making  arrangements  for  the  transfer  of  released 
prisoners  to  a boat  for  Annapolis.  I went  to  him  and  asked  why  it  was 
that  he  wanted  us  to  go  to  that  point.  He  told  me  that  the  government 
had  a camp  for  paroled  prisoners  there  where  they  were  made  very  com- 
fortable, and  that  as  my  comrades  had  said  we  were  soldiers,  that  was  the 
place  for  us  to  go;  adding  that  if  we  had  any  business  in  Washington  we  4. 
could  easily  get  a pass  and  run  over.  I saw  no  use  in  this  delay,  and  asked 
for  the  commander.  When  I found  him,  he  told  me  that  his  orders  were 
positive  to  send  all  soldiers  to  the  parole  camp  at  Annapolis.  I told  him 
that  our  case  was  altogether  exceptional;  that  we  had  been  on  a peculiar 
expedition  and  felt  it  our  duty  to  report ‘directly  to  Secretary  Stanton. 
General  Mitchel,  who  had  sent  us  disguised  into  the  enemy's  country,  was  , 
dead.  Our  leader  also  had  perished.  We  had  long  been  thought  to  be 
dead  ourselves,  and  had  escaped  only  as  by  miracle.  There  was  no  place 


Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  and  President  Lincoln.  407 

so  appropriate  for  us  to  go  with  the  whole  story  as  to  the  War  Department  at 
Washington.  I added  as  a perfectly  conclusive  argument  that  for  a whole 
t year  the  rebels  had  refused  to  treat  us  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  had  con- 
tended that  our  case  was  exceptional;  that  they  had  wished  to  put  us  to 
death  on  that  theory;  and  that  it  was  only  right  if  we  should  be  a little 
different  from  other  soldiers  now.  He  smiled,  saying  that  our  case  seemed 
a good  one,  and  gave  orders  that  we  should  continue  with  the  citizens 
from  Castle  Thunder.  I had  then  to  give  him  the  outline  of  our  adven- 
tures which  impressed  him  greatly.  He  promisee^  to  do  all  in  his  power 

* for  us  when  we  should  arrive  in  Washington. 

After  this  episode  I remember  nothing  more  with  distinctness  till  we 
approached  Washington.  The  snowy  Capitol  with  its  towering  dome 
never  looked  so  attractive  before.  I had  last  seen  it  in  the  summer  of 
’61,  when  war  seemed  little  more  than  a holiday  parade.  What  mighty 
changes  for  the  nation  had  occurred  since  then  ! and  for  us  who  had  seen 
#the  sternest  of  possible  experiences,  who  had  felt  what  famine,  prison,  and 
the  scaffold  meant,  the  change  had  been  still  more  momentous. 

We  arrived  in  Washington  late  in  the  afternoon — I know  not  of  what 
day,  but  presume  it  was  the  day  after  leaving  Richmond,  which  would  be 
Thursday,  March  19th.  I made  no  memoranda  at  this  time,  such  as  I 
had  not  failed  to  keep  during  the  darkest  parts  of  our  history.  In  my 
^ own  experience  joy  was  more  overpowering  than  sorrow. 

The  trials  of  our  East  Tennessee  friends,  with  whom  we  had  been  as- 
sociated since  leaving  Knoxville,  were  not  a little  amusing  at  this  point. 
They  knew  nothing  of  Washington  circumlocution;  and  now  that  they 
were  delivered  from  the  power  of  the  tyrannous  rebels  they  believed  their 
troubles  ended^  supposing  that  as  a matter  of  course  they  would  be  free, 
the  moment  they  placed  their  foot  on  Northern  soil.  When  Pierce  es- 

• pecially  began  to  grumble,  we  comforted  him.  Job-fashion,  by  declaring 
that  he  expected  the  President  to  come  down  to  meet  him  with  a band  of 
music  ! Instead  of  this  we  were  all  marched  off  to  the  barrack^,  put  into 
a bare  room,  and  then  to  crown  all,  and  to  make  the  Tennesseeans 
boil  with  wrath,  a guard  was  placed  over  us  ! Pierce  declared  that  he 
was  going  South  the  first  chance  he  had,  and  would  tell  Jeff.  Davis 

% that  he  gave  up  his  opposition  and  would  now  be  as  good  a rebel  as  any  of 
them.  Bensinger  said  laughing,  “Then  he’ll  put  you  in  Castle  Thunder 
again.”  Buffum  teased  him  still  further  by  asking,  “ How  are  you  going 
to  get  past  the  guard  to  start?”  We  who  had  been  subject  to  the  disci- 
pline of  a soldier’s  life  and  had  always  slept  encircled  by  guards  in  our 
own  camps  saw  nothing  strange  in  this.  One  of  our  number — probably 
^ Reddick — suggested  that  as  we  looked  like  poor  people  from  the  country 
they  had  only  employed  these  guards  to  protect  us  from  city  sharpers  ! 
But  soon  the  matter  was  made  a thousand  times  worse  for  Pierce  and  his 


4o8 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


companions  by  the  arrival  of  an  orderly  who  handed  the  officer  in  charge 
orders  to  let  those  six  Ohio  men  go  out  and  in  at  pleasure  and  have  every 
privilege  ! This  was  adding  insult  to  injury;  and  the  other  Tennesseeans  ^ 
were  as  much  irritated  as  Pierce.  But  the  men  were  loyal  and  true  as 
steel;  they  had  suffered  every  thing  for  the  cause  of  the  Union,  and  I 
could  not  endure  to  see  them  suffer.  So  I explained  to  them  that  time 
was  necessary  to  examine  into  the  different  cases  and  determine  what  should 
be  done  with  them;  that  we  were  only  put  here  for  shelter  for  the  night, 
and  that  soon  some  better  disposition  would  be  made  of  us;  they  would 
soon  see  the  difference  between  the  old  government  and  the  Confederacy.  * 
Then  we  offered  to  do  any  thing  we  could  for  them,  as  we  were  going  out 
for  a short  walk.  This  comforted  them  a good  deal,  Pierce  saying  that 
he  supposed  it  must  be  all  right,  but  it  went  hard  for  a man  who  had 
been  locked  up  by  the  rebels  to  come  North  and  find  that  the  first  thing 
they  did  there  was  to  lock  him  up  again  ! It  did  seem  hard;  but  soon 
there  was  a good  deal  of  comfort.  A huge  roll  of  blankets  were  brought< 
in — two  or  three  apiece,  and  real  blankets,  not  pieces  of  carpet.  Ben- 
singer  could  not  help  saying,  “ Which  of  the  Southern  prisons  was  it. 
Pierce,  where  you  got  a couple  of  big  blankets  like  these  ? ” He  was 
pleased  as  a child  and  answered  that  he  could  not  just  exactly  remember  ! 
The  blankets  were  hardly  shared  out  when  another  grateful  surprise  oc- 
curred. The  door  leading  to  an  adjoining  room  was  opened  and  a guard 
called,  “ Come  out,  and  get  your  suppers.’’  On  going,  we  found  a long 
table  on  which  were  great  plates  of  excellent  soft  bread,  good  boiled  beef, 
and  other  articles  in  unstinted  supply!  while  the  odor  of  strong  coffee 
filled  the  room.  We  were  always  hungry,  and  could  now  eat  without  fear 
of  injury.  Even  Pierce’s  countenance  relaxed  as  he  grumbled,  “Well, 
if  Uncle  Sam  does  shut  a fellow  up,  he  feeds  well,  which  is  more  than 
Jeff,  does.  ” The  guard  who  conducted  us  in,  said  hospitably,  “ Help  ^ 
yourselves.  There’s  plenty.  I guess  you  did’nt  get  much  to  eat  among 
the  Johnni'es. ’’ 

After  supper  we  took  our  proposed  walk.  But  once  outside  in  the 
dark  street,  with  no  place  to  go,  no  money  to  buy  anything,  and  nobody 
to  care  for  us,  it  began  to  seem  rather  lonely.  We  had  been  objects  of  so 
much  solicitude  for  so  long  that  we  could  scarcely  help  feeling  a little  ^ 
neglected  now  that  nobody  prevented  us  from  wandering  in  any  direction 
we  chose!  Beside  we  were  not  yet  provided  with  new  clothing — though 
I stood  on  better  footing  than  the  rest,  for  I had  good  boots;  a regular  re- 
quisition would  have  to  be  filled  before  our  wants  in  that  direction  could 
be  supplied;  and  the  air  was  chilly.  After  wandering  aimlessly  for  a few 
squares,  looking  in  at  the  shop  windows  and  staring  at  the  great  buildings, 
we  turned  and  were  soon  back  in  the  barracks.  The  room,  which  was  well 
warmed,  seemed  very  cosy;  it  was  easy  to  consider  the  sentinels  at  the 


Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  and  President  Lincoln,  409 

door  as  placed  there  to  guard  us  from  an  enemy,  a view  of  the  case  which 
greatly  pleased  the  Tennesseeans.  I really  think  we  slept  better  than  we 
would  have  done  if  at  a first-class  hotel  ! 

The  next  day,  as  I had  expected,  all  restrictions  were  removed  from 
the  movements  of  the  other  members  of  the  party  as  well  as  our  own,  but 
we  were  invited  to  make  our  home  at  the  barracks,  receiving  regular  sol- 
diers’ rations,  as  long  as  convenient. 

But  we  did  not  remain  long.  A wealthy  and  patriotic  lady,  Mrs.  Tales, 
had  fitted  up  a pavilion  in  her  yard  in  excellent  style  and  kept  it  filled 
with  convalescents  from  army  hospitals,  to  whom  she  gave  the  attendance 
and  most  of  the  comforts  of  home  life.  Hearing  our  story,  she  applied 
to  the  Ohio  State  agent,  Mr.  J.  C.  Wetmore,  to  secure  us  as  lodgers.  He 
visited  us  and  carried  the  invitation,  which  we  gratefully  accepted.  Here 
we  lived  in  fine  style,  with  all  a soldier’s  comforts,  and  excellent  company. 
We  had  now  received  a suit  of  army  blue,  and  made  a bonfire  of  our 
rebel  rags;  so  that  we  were  a little  less  afraid  of  lady  visitors.  Our  hostess 
made  an  evening  reception  for  us,  where  there  was  an  abundance  of  ice 
cream  and  cake, — which  did  not  remind  us  of  anything  in  Dixie; — and  had 
the  privilege  of  telling  our  story  to  many  sympathizing  ladies.  Having  a 
very  comfortable  ambulance  always  at  command — the  property  of  our 
kind  friend,  and  kept  with  a driver  for  the  use  of  her  soldiers — we  were 
able  to  visit  the  places  of  interest  in  Washington  with  great  comfort.  Of 
this  privilege  we  freely  availed  ourselves  when  business  permitted. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  when  we  were  at  the  Smithsonian  Institute, 
I saw  a tall  man  of  striking  appearance,  and  at  once  said  to  my  comrades, 
“ That  is  President  Lincoln.-^’  But  they  were  incredulous.  They  had 
read  in  Southern  papers  that  he  never  stirred  out  of  the  White  House 
without  a heavy  guard,  and  at  once  they  said,  “You  are  trying  to  deceive 
us;  donT  you  see  there  is  no  guard  here?^^  I wa^  a little  puzzled  by  the 
absence  of  the  guard  myself,  for  I had  believed  the  story,  and  there  were 
only  one  or  two  civilians  with  him;  but  I had  seen  Lincoln,  who  could  not 
easily  be  forgotten.  I said,  “ Come  up  and  let  us  speak  to  him  ! ” A little 
reluctantly  they  advanced,  and  when  we  were  near  enough,  I said,  “ Can 
you  tell  us  the  name  of  this  animal?’'  pointing  to  the  skeleton  of  the 
geologic  monster  he  was  looking  at.  He  smiled  in  his  kind,  sad  way,  and 
answered,  “That’s  its  name  written  on  that  card;  but  I won’t  under- 
take to  pronounce  it.  I don^t  know  much  about  such  things.”  One  or 
two  remarks  were  exchanged  on  indifferent  topics,  and  then  we  parted. 
When  at  a safe  distance,  Buffum  said,  “ Pittenger,  you  can’t  play  such  a 
joke  on  us  as  to  make  us  believe  that  a man  who  will  speak  to  common 
folks  in  that  off-hand  way  is  President  Lincoln  ! ’’  But  I only  replied, 
“We’ll  go  and  see  him  at  the  White  House  soon  and  then  you  can 
judge.  ” 


410 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


The  first  Sunday  of  our  stay  in  Washington  we  gladly  accepted  the 
invitation  of  our  kind  hostess  to  accompany  her  to  the  Baptist  church  of 
which  she  was  a member.  This  led  to  a great  trial  on  my  part.  The  ^ 
preacher  seeing  five  men  in  soldier  uniform  in  her  pew — Mason,  who  was 
sick,  had  remained  at  home — came  down  and  spoke  to  her.  A lew  words, 
were  exchanged,  and  then  he  turned  to  us  and  said,  “ Can’t  you  tell  us 
a little  about  your  strange  deliverance  ? I will  make  the  other  services 
very  short?”  The  faces  of  all  our  party  turned  toward  me;  and  the  min- 
ister, taking  the  hint,  repeated  his  question  to  me  individually.  Some- 
thing like  this  was  just  what  I had  feared  when  I had  the  great  mental  ‘ 
struggle  in  the  Atlanta  prison;  I wished  to  refuse,  but  in  the  freshness  of 
deliverance,  such  a refusal  would  have  seemed  little  less  than  a crim_e. 
The  minister  was  better  (or  worse)  than  his  word,  for  he  did  not  preach  at 
all,  but  on  finishing  the  opening  services,  spoke  a few  words  about  the 
great  sufferings  and  lessons  of  the  war,  and  the  hardships  and  tempta- 
tions of  the  army;  then  added  that  there  were  some  men  present  that  < 
morning  whose  experiences  were  marvelous  beyond  the  common  lot  of 
men,  and  one  of  them  had  consented  to  give  some  account  of  them. 

I rose  at  the  call  and  scarcely  could  have  felt  worse  for  a moment  if  in 
Swim’s  prison  ! But  the  people  were  so  kind  and  attentive  that  embarrass- 
ment vanished.  I passed  very  lightly  over  the  military  part  of  the  enter- 
prise, and  spoke  especially  of  God^s  goodness  in  delivering  us.  When  I 
told  of  the  sudden  death  of  our  comrades  in  Atlanta,  and  of  their  regrets 
for  not  being  better  prepared  for  death,  there  was  weeping  over  all  the 
church.  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  kindly  greetings  and  proffers  of  ser- 
vice were  showered  upon  us. 

We  lodged  in  the  tent  provided  by  this  lady  during  the  whole  of  the 
ten  days  of  our  stay  in  Washington.  Many  other  persons  wished  to  take 
us  as  guests,  but  she  refused  unless  we  would  say  that  we  wished  to  leave  ^ 
her  care.  Mason,  being  sick,  was  taken  into  the  house,  and  nursed  most 
carefully. 

On  our  first  morning  in  Washington  I had  written  a note  to  Secretary 
Stanton,  giving  notice  of  our  arrival  and  of  my  belief  that  the  government, 
if  not  already  fully  informed,  ought  to  know  our  story.  I supposed  this 
would  produce  more  speedy  results  than  to  let  the  matter  pass  through  < 
the  ordinary  channels,  and  was  not  disappointed.  He  gave  written 
orders  to  Hon.  Joseph  Holt,  Judge- Advocate-General,  to  investigate  the 
whole  matter,  provide  for  all  our  wants  in  the  meantime,  and  then  bring 
us  to  him.  Hon.  J.  C.  Wetmore,  of  the  Ohio  Military  Agency,  attended  to 
procuring  us  the  legal  allowance  for  commutation  of  rations  during  the 
time  of  imprisonment,  so  that  we  were  soon  in  funds.  Regular  pay  with 
arrearages  could  not  be  given  till  we  returned  to  our  regiments. 

Our  first  visit  to  Judge  Holt  was  a merely  friendly  one,  and  the  time 


Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  aitd  President  Lincoln,  41 1 

was  spent  in  familiar  conversation.  Major-General  Hitchcock,  Com- 
mander of  the  Post  at  Washington,  was  also  present. 

I The  next  day  we  went  again,  being  taken  each  time  in  a government 
carriage,  and  found  Justice  Callan  of  Washington  ready  to  administer  an 
oath,  with  a phonographer  to  take  down  the  testimony  as  given.  I was 
examined  first,  telling  the  whole  story,  and  then  each  one  followed,  confirm- 
ing what  was  said,  and  adding  omitted  particulars.  The  evidence  that  we 
were  telling  a true  story  was  far  stronger  than  we  knew.  The  story  of 
Wood  and  Wilson  had  been  on  file  in  the  department  since  the  preceding 
* November.  It  was  far  less  full  than  ours,  but  confirmed  it  in  every  es- 
sential particular.  Indeed  the  certainty  that  we  were  giving  a simple,  plain, 
and  uncolored  narrative  was  so  complete  that  no  one  save  General  Buell 
ever  called  any  part  of  it  in  question;  and  he  only  because  of  ignorantly 
confounding  the  first  and  second  expeditions. 

While  talking  I watched  the  phonographer  with  much  interest.  To 
tsee  a pencibmove  as  if  it  was  animated  by  my  tongue  rather  than  by  the 
hand  of  the  man  who  held  it  was  a new  experience.  I tried  to  speak  at 
different  rates;  the  pencil  quickened  or  went  slowly  with  no  m_ore  appear- 
ance of  effort  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  I was  more  interested 
because  of  writing  shorthand  myself,  but  at  no  such  speed. 

The  testimony  thus  taken  was  published  in  the  next  issue  of  the  Army 
^and  Navy  Gazette,  as  also  in  the  Washington  papers  of  April  4th,  and 
copied  over  the  country.  The  examination  before  Judge  Holt  was  on  the 
24th  of  March,  and  his  report  to  the  Secretary  of  War  based  upon  them 
was  dated  the  27th.  The  latter  is  given  in  the  Supplement.^ 

The  following  day  was  fixed  for  an  interview  with  Secretary  Stanton. 
Agent  Wetmoreand  Major-General  Hitchcock  accompanied  us.  Generals 
'Sigel  and  Stahl,  with  many  other  distinguished  persons,  were  in  the  ante- 
•room  waiting,  but  as  we  were  there  by  appointment,  they  continued  to 
wait,  while  we  were  at  once  admitted.  Stanton  had  long  resided  in  my 
county  town  of  Steubenville,  and  I had  seen  him,  and  knew  him  well  by 
reputation,  though  I could  then  claim  no  personal  acquaintance.  We  were 
seated,  after  he  had  shaken  each  one  of  us  warmly  by  the  hand  and  uttered 
words  of  greeting  and  compliment.  We  talked  for  a considerable  time,  not 
♦ so  much  on  the  subject  of  our  expedition — for  I took  it  for  granted  that, 
lawyer-like,  he  had  looked  over  the  evidence  in  the  case  and  made  up  his 
mind  about  it — as  upon  general  topics,  such  as  our  impressions  of  the 
South  and  the  Union  men  in  it,  and  of  our  hope  and  feeling  about  the  war. 
I was  especially  struck  by  his  asking  us  how  we  had  liked  Gen.  Mitchel 
as  a commander;  and  when  we  spoke  of  him  with  unstinted  enthusiasm 
he  seemed  greatly  pleased  and  said,  “That’s  the  way  all  his  men  talk 


^ Chapter  XL. 


412 


Darhig  aiid  Suffer  mg. 


about  him.”  He  told  us  that  he  had  been  aware  of  our  expedition  at  the 
time,  but  had  no  ^accurate  information  of  the  fate  of  the  party.  His  im- 
pression was  that  all  had  perished  at  first.  On  the  escape  of  the  eight  in  * 
October  he  had  made  official  inquiries  of  the  Confederate  government 
about  us,  but  had  been  answered  that  they  had  no  information  of  the  hang- 
ing of  any  of  the  party.  (The  papers  which  were  forwarded  to  Rich- 
mond in  response  to  inquiries  much  earlier,  show  this  statement  to  be  ab- 


Face  of  Medal. 

[Fac  simile  of  medals  of  honor  given  to  surviving  members  of  the  Andrews  raid  and  to  the  families  of  those 

who  perished.  Natural  size]. 


solutely  incorrect).  He  had  then  threatened  retaliation  in  case  any  more 
were  put  to  death,  and  had  endeavored  to  effect  our  exchange;  he  was 
very  glad  indeed  that  these  efforts  had  succeeded,  and  surprised  us  by 
saying,  “You  will  find  yourselves  great  heroes  when  you  get  home;” 
then  added  many  kind  words  about  the  high  appreciation  of  our  services 
by  the  government,  which,  coming  from  the  Secretary  of  War  of  a great  ^ 
nation,  to  private  soldiers,  was  most  flattering.  Stanton  seemed  espe- 
cially pleased  with  Parrot.  He  was  the  youngest  of  our  number  and  of 


Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  a)id  President  Lincoln,  413 

very  quiet  and  simple  manners.  Stanton  gave  him  the  offer  of  a com- 
plete education  if  he  would  accept  it — I understood  him  to  mean  at 

^ West  Point.  Parrot  answered  that  while  the  war  lasted  he  did  not  wish 
to  go  to  school;  but  would  rather  go  back  and  fight  the  rebels  who  had 
used  him  so  badly.  At  this  Stanton  smiled  as  if  he  greatly  approved  his 
spirit,  and  then  said  to  him,  “ If  you  want  a friend  at  any  time  be  sure  to 
apply  to  me.”  Then  going  into  another  room  he  brought  out  a medal, 
and  handed  it  to  Parrot,  saying,  “ Congress  has  by  a recent  law  ordered 
medals  to  be  prepared  on  this  model,  and  your  party  shall  have  the  first; 

• they  will  be  the  first  that  have  been  given  to  private  soldiers  in  this  war  ! ” 
Later  all  the  survivors  of  the  party  received  similar  medals.  Then  he 
gave  us  a present  of  $100  each  from  the  secret  service  fund,  and  ordered 
all  the  money  and  the  value  of  arms  and  property  taken  from  us  by  the 
rebels  to  be  refunded.  Finally,  he  asked  us  about  our  wishes  and  intentions 
for  the  future.  Finding  that  we  were  all  resolved  to  return  (as  soon  as 

^ health  permitted)  to  active  service,  he  offered  us  commissions  as  first  lieu- 
tenants in  the  regular  army.  We  expressed  a preference  for  the  volun- 
teer service,  saying  that  we  were  soldiers  only  for' the  war,  and  would  wish 
to  resume  our  usual  pursuits  when  peace  returned.  He  promised  to  re- 
quest Gov.  Todd  of  Ohio  to  give  us  equivalent  commissions  in  our  own 
regiments.  Then  with  a hearty  good  bye  we  left  him. 

We  had  been  invited  to  call  upon  the  President  the  same  day;  and 

* General  Hitchcock  accompanied  us  on  this  pleasant  mission.  My  com- 
panions had  done  a little  jesting  about  being  able  now  to  show  me  how 
much  I was  mistaken  in  trying  to  impose  the  tall,  plain  stranger  of  the 
Smithsonian  upon  them  for  the  great  and  good  Abraham  Lincoln,  which  I 
enjoyed  as  much  as  they  did.  A still  greater  crowd  than  at  the  War  Office 
was  awaiting  admission;  but  as  we  came  by  appointment,  we  had  the 

• preference  and  were  conducted  immediately  to  the  private  office  of  the 
President.  We  did  feel  some  little  embarrassment,  but  this  scarcely  ac- 
companied us  over  the  threshold. 

The  office  was  very  plainly  furnished.  There  was  a long  table  and 
some  chairs,  but  scarcely  anything  else.  Lincoln  met  us  at  the  door, 
greeted  us  warmly,  and  told  us  how  much  he  had  been  interested  in  hear- 

^ ing  of  our  adventures,  and  how  glad  he  was  that  we  had  at  last  escaped 
from  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  We  answered  as  well  as  we  could,  I re- 
member telling  him  that  we  were  ver^  glad  to  see  him,  though  we  had  been 
hearing  a great  many  things  not  complimentary  about  him  for  the  past 
year.  He  smiled,  saying,  Indeed,  there  are  a good  many  people  up 
here  that  say  about  as  bad  things  of  me.”  I also  mentioned  the  reason 
that  the  other  members  of  the  party  would  not  believe  that  he  was  the  man 

* we  had  met  in  the  Smithsonian,  which  caused  him  to  laugh  heartily  and  ask 
if  we  really  imagined  he  went  every  where  with  a great  guard  parading  after 


414 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


him,  and  if  the  people  of  the  South  believed  all  the  stories  printed  in  their 
papers  ? While  talking  he  did  not  keep  one  position,  but  shifted  from  place 


Interview  with  President  Lincoln.  “ A little  luck  with  the  battles  now  ! ” 


to  place,  going  from  one  to  another  of  ns,  as  he  addressed  each  one  with  great 
courtesy.  I specially  remember  part  of  one  remark  and  his  position  while 


Reporting  to  Secretary  Stanton  and  President  Lincoln,  415 

making  it.  Something  had  been  said  about  political  matters,  and  our 
joy  that  the  Union  party  was  now  gaining  in  the  country  after  the  great 

t defeats  of  the  fall  before.  ‘‘  Yes,”  Lincoln  said,  as  he  stood  in  a stooping 
position  by  the  fire-place  with  his  elbow  resting  on  the  end  of  the  mantle- 
piece,  “if  we  could  only  have  a little  luck  with  the  battles  now,  all  would 
soon  be  right  and  the  war  be  over.”  The  quaint  phrase,  a “ little  luck 
with  the  battles”  made  an  indelible  impression  on  my  memory,  for  we 
had  been  having  very  ill-luck  in  that  direction  for  some  time.  We  did 
not  wish  to  be  tiresome,  and  ourselves  made  the  first  motion  to  leave;  the 
President  took  the  hand  of  each  in  both  his  own,  saying  again  how  thank- 
ful he  was  that  we  had  been  spared,  and  that  he  hoped  we  would  find  all 
our  relatives  living,  and  well  when  we  reached  home.  We  left  him,  exceed- 
ingly proud  of  the  honor  the  greatest  man  in  the  nation  (or  the  world) 
had  conferred  upon  us.  We  had  now  nothing  further  to  detain  us  in 
Washington,  and  were  most  anxious  to  be  in  Ohio  again.  A furlough  for 

♦ sixty  days  was  given  to  us  and  an  order  for  government  transportation  to 
our  homes. 

The  father  of  William  Reddick  had  heard  of  his  being  still  alive  and  in 
Richmond,  and  possessing  'abundant  means,  had  started  for  Washington 
at  once  with  the  intention  of  trying  to  get  a pass  to  go  South  in  search  of 
his  son.  He  arrived  the  day  before  we  were  ready  to  start  for  Ohio. 

^ His  surprise  and  joy  in  finding  his  boy  free  and  safe  were  indescribable. 
We  almost  envied  our  comrade  the  happy  meeting,  but  hoped  for  others 
like  it  soon.  Reddick  greeted  each  of  us  only  less  cordially  than  his  own 
son,  and  was  in  our  company  in  the  journey  over  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
Railroad  as  far  as  Wheeling. 

Of  the  thoughts  that  filled  our  hearts  as  we  bade  adieu  to  Washington, 
where  we  had  spent  such  a pleasant  week,  and  of  the  kind  friends  who  had 

* seemed  to  try  to  make  amends  for  all  we  had  suffered  by  rebel  hands,  I 
have  no  time  to  speak.  The  freshness  of  liberty  had  by  no  means  worn 
off,  and  each  change  was  a delight  in  itself,  yet  the  hours  that  intervened 
between  us  and  ho7ne  seemed  all  too  long.  Mr.  Reddick  insisted  upon 
buying  for  the  whole  party  everything  we  could  possibly  eat  on  the  way, 
and  in  the  delight  he  took  in  the  presence  of  his  son  we  could  see  reflected 

> . what  was  in  store  for  the  rest  of  us. 

When  Bellaire  on  the  Ohio  river  had  been  reached,  our  homeward 
roads  parted  and  I was  left  alone — the  first  time  for  many  months.  We 
had  promised  to  write  to  each  other  and  never  forget  our  prison  association 
■ — a promise  which  has  been  kept.  The  others  took  the  road  which  carried 
them  into  the  interior  of  Ohio,  while  I had  to  go  up  the  river  to  Steuben- 

^ Ville.  But  our  train  was  behind  time,  and  the  one  with  which  it  should 
have  connected  had  long  since  gone.  There  was  no  other  till  afternoon. 
The  waiting  among  total  strangers  for  some  hours  seemed  very  weari- 


4i6 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


some;  but  getting  a newspaper,  reading  the  news  and  thinking  of  the 
meeting  before  me  caused  time  to  pass  pleasantly.  A party  of  travellers 
ordered  a special  dinner  and  I joined  them,  and  then  enjoyed  a new  < 
sensation — that  of  paying  my  own  bill — a thing  I had  not  done  since  the 
supper  at  Dalton  the  preceding  April  ! The  price  was  a dollar,  and  I 
was  correspondingly  impressed.  When  the  cars  came  I met  no  acquain- 
tance. The  run  to  Steubenville  was  short,  and  at  that  point  I found  that 
I would  have  to  wait  some  two  hours  before  I could  go  on  up  the  river 
to  the  station  nearest  my  father’s.  I preferred  walking  up  to  the  office  of 
the  Herald  the  paper  with  which  I had  corresponded  ever  since  the  open- 
ing of  the  war,  to  remaining  in  the  depot,  and  started.  Before  I had  gone 
half  a square,  some  one  recognized  me,  and  another^  and  another.  I could 
hear  them  calling  out  of  shop  doors,  “ There’s  Pittenger  ! ” The  form- 
ing of  the  crowd  was  fully  as  prompt  as  in  some  of  the  southern  towns 
through  which  we  had  passed,  but  the  expressions  were  very  different.  I 
could  scarcely  get  to  the  newspaper  office;  and  I could  not  get  away  from  ^ 
the  town  till  I had  given  my  promise  to  Dr.  John  McCook,  father  of 
Anson  G.  McCook,  my  first  Captain,  to  come  back  and  give  an  account 
of  my  adventures  to  the  people  the  second  evening  from  that  date,  which 
I did  to  nearly  the  whole  town,  very  much  to  my  financial  advantage. 

The  journey  over  the  old  familiar  hills  about  which  I had  dreamed  in 
Southern  dungeons,  the  tearful  welcome  of  father  and  mother,  the  sur-  ^ 
prise  and  joy  of  the  little  brothers  and  sisters, — all  these  are  beyond  de- 
scription. For  the  first  time  in  its  history  a public  supper  was  given  in 
honor  of  an  individual  in  the  little  village  of  Knoxville.  It  was  held  in 
the  village  church,  and  the  whole  surrounding  country  was  represented. 
The  next  Sunday  I attended  the  Methodist  church  in  New  Somerset  and 
had  my  name  enrolled  as  a probationer.  The  vow  I had  made  to  God  in 
the  hour  of  trouble  was  not  forgotten.  ^ 

After  the  expiration  of  my  furlough,  though  still  in  very  feeble  health, 

I returned  to  the  2nd  Ohio,  which  was  then  encamped  at  Murfreesboro 
— the  very  town  from  which  I had  planned  to  go  South  the  year  before. 
Here  my  reception  was  not  less  hearty  than  at  home,  and  I realized  how 
much  more  pleasant  it  was  to  wear  the  blue  and  face  the  foe,  even  in  all 
the  hardships  and  dangers  of  war,  than  to  be  cooped  up  in  dark  prisons.  < 


t 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

, SUBSEQUENT  HISTORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD  ADVENTURERS. 

Brought  down  to  1893. 

CAPTAIN  DAVID  FRY  lived  at  his  old  home  in  -Greenville, 
Tennessee,  until  the  21st  of  August,  1872,  when  he  accidentally 
fell  in  stepping  from  a moving  train  of  cars  and  received  injuries 
^ from  which  he  died  a few  days  afterward. 

The  eight  of  our  party  who  escaped  from  prison  in  October^  1862,  after 
enjoying  short  furloughs,  returned  to  their  places  in  the  ranks.  All  of 
them  were  commended  for  good  conduct^  but  received  no  special  promo- 
tion until  after  the  exchange  of  their  six  comrades  in  March,  1863.  Several 
of  this  first  number  participated  in  the  battle  of  Stone  River,  and  the  for- 
tunes of  war  carried  all  of  them  a second  time  over  nearly  the  same  ground 
* they  had  previously  traversed.  In  the  spring  of  1863  all  who  made  pro- 
per application  to  Gov.  Todd  of  Ohio,  as  directed  by  the  Secretary  of 
War,  received  lieutenants’  commissions,  though  several  experienced 
technical  difficulties  and  delays  in  being  duly  mustered  as  officers. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  give  a brief  account  of  the  individual  fortunes 
of  the  raiders,  dwelling  a little  more  fully  upon  those  which  present  fea- 
• tures  of  special  interest. 

Wm.  Knight  served  as  a private  soldier  with  great  credit  until  his  final 
discharge  on  the  28th  of  April,  1864.  He  spent  a year  in  California,  then 
came  east  again,  resuming  his  old  occupation  as  railroad  engineer,  and  re- 
siding in  Logansport,  Indiana.  When  he  married^  he  exchanged  the  loco- 
motive for  stationary  engines.  He  has  lived  in  Ohio,  Wisconsin  and 
^ Minnesota,  returning  at  length  to  Stryker,  Ohio. 

Wm.  Bensinger,  at  the  expiration  of  his  furlough,  applied  to  Gov.  Todd 
and  was  promised  a commission  as  soon  as  a vacancy  should  occur  in  his 
regiment.  But  as  there  was  considerable  delay,  he  decided  to  accept  in- 
stead a captaincy  of  colored  troops.  Here  he  rendered  excellent  service, 
finding  the  negroes,  after  sufficient  drilling,  to  make  good  soldiers.  At 
the  battle  of  Nashville  his  company  fought  with  desperate  gallantry,  los- 
^ ing  more  than  half  of  their  number. 

Bensinger  married  a Southern  lady  during  the  continuance  of  the  war. 


41 S Daring  and  Suffering. 

under  very  romantic  circumstances.  He  was  mustered  out  of  service  on 
June  nth,  1866.  After  the  war  he  farmed  for  some  years,  but  the  burning 
of  his  house  entailed  so  heavy  a loss  that  he  could  not  replace  it,  and  he  , 
left  the  farm,  first  for  mercantile  business,  and  afterward  to  serve  as  rail- 
road engineer.  After  spending  eight  years  in  this  latter  occupation,  he 
purchased  a farm  in  Hancock  Co.,  Ohio,  on  which  he  still  resides. 

J.  A.  Wilson,  from  whose  published  “Adventures'"  frequent  citations 
have  been  made,  served  in  the  army  till  the  expiration  of  his  period  of  en- 
listment. He  has  since  resided  in  Wood  Co.,  Ohio. 

John  Wollam  returned  to  the  army  and  was  recaptured  at  the  Battle  * 

of  Chickamauga.  He  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  recognized  as 
having  belonged  to,  the  Andrews 
raid,  and  was  taken  to  Atlanta,  and 
compelled  to  wear  a ball  and  chain 
for  three  or  four  months.  From  , 
this  severe  treatment  he  managed 
by  his  own  shrewdness  to  escape, 
and  being  now  quite  familiar  with 
the  best  modes  of  travelling 
through  an  enemy’s  country,  suc- 
ceeded in  piloting  two  companions 
who  shared  his  fortunes  through 
to  the  Union  lines.  He  returned 
to  the  ranks  and  finished  his  period 
of  service,  after  which  he  resided 
in  Ohio  and  Illinois  until  1877, 
and  in  Kansas  until  September 
25th,  1890,  at  which  time  he  < 
died. 

Robert  Buffum  had  a sorrow- 
ful history.  He  was  as  brave  a man  as  ever  lived,  and  had  been  promi- 
nent in  the  Kansas  struggles  which  preceded  the  great  civil  conflict.  After 
exchange  he  received  his  commission  and  served  with  honor  till  the  close 
of  the  war.  But  unfortunately  he  had  formed  the  habit  of  hard  drinking,  ^ 
and  when  in  liquor  was  uncontrollable.  His  mind,  also,  was  a good 
deal  unsettled  by  reason  of  the  terrible  hardships  he  had  endured,  and 
this  grew  worse  instead  of  better.  Before  he  reached  home,  after  being 
mustered  out  of  service,  he  was  arrested  in  Kentucky  for  some  offense 
the  nature  of  which  I never  clearly  knew,  and  very  summarily  condemned 
to  the  State  Penitentiary.  Receiving  a letter  from  him  in  which  he  pro- 
fessed innocence  of  any  grave  fault,  while  admitting  that  he  had  been 
drinking  heavily,  I secured  the  signatures  of  Judge  Holt  and  Secretary 


W.  W.  Brown.  From  a recent  photograph. 


Subsequent  History  of  the  Railroad  Adventurers, 


419 


t 


f 


% 


% 


Stanton  to  a petition  for  his  pardon.  This  Gov.  Bramlette — probably 
thinking  the  man  had  been  hardly  dealt  with — very  promptly  granted. 
When  released,  Buffum  returned  to  Ohio,  signed  the  temperance  pledge, 
and  lived  a perfectly  sober  life  for  some  months.  During  this  time 
he  engaged  in  the  sale  of  the  first  edition  of  Daring  and  Sufferings  and 
met  with  such  success  that  he  was  not  only  able  to  maintain  his  wife 
and  three  children,  but  also  to 


pay  for  a home.  But  there  were 
so  many  persons  who  wished  to 
treat  that  he  yielded  to  tempt- 
ation and  was  soon  in  trouble.  In 
a heated  discussion  in  Minerva, 
Ohio,  a man  used  violent  lan- 
guage against  President  Lincoln, 
declaring  that  he  ought  to  be 
hung.  Buffum’s  latent  insanity 
blazed  out  in  a moment,  and  pro- 
curing a revolver  he  shot  the  man 
in  the  face.  For  this  he  was  im- 
prisoned in  Canton,  Ohio,  but  the 
wounded  man  recovering,  and 
leaving  the  State  without  appear- 
ing against  him,  Buffum  was  soon 
released. 

The  worst  still  remains.  A 
few  years  after,  he  shot  a man 
dead  in  Orange  Co.,  New  York, 
in  a fit  of  insanity,  and  was  con- 
demned to  the  Penitentiary  for 
life.  He  was  received  at  Sing 
Sing,  May  23rd,  1871,  where  his 
derangement  was  so  evident  that 


only  six  days  after  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  Asylum  for  Insane 
Criminals  at  Auburn.  In  this 
refuge  he  remained  until  July  20th,  when  he  cut  his  own  throat  and  died 
— a pitiful  ending  after  his  marvellous  escapes  ! 

Mark  Wood  received  his  commission,  and  after  the  war  settled  in 
Toledo,  Ohio,  where  he  died,  in  the  year  1867,  on  account  of  disabilities 
contracted  by  prison  hardships. 

W.  W.  Brown  received  his  lieutenant’s  commission,  and  was  after- 
ward promoted  to  a captaincy.  He  was  wounded,  and  for  the  disability 


Jacob  Parrott  and  D.  A.  Dorsay  overlooking  Chat- 
tanooga. PVom  a war-time  photograph. 


420 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


thus  incurred  received  a pension.  He  has  been  a farmer  in  Wood  County, 
Ohio,  for  a number  of  years  past. 

Jacob  Parrott  and  D.  A.  Dorsey  both  received  the  commissions  to  ^ 
which  they  were  entitled,  and  accompanied  the  army  to  Chickamauga, 
in  which  battle  they  bore  their  full  share,  as  also  in  the  battles  'of  Look- 
out Mountain  and  Missionary  Ridge.  The  accompanying  photograph,  in 
which  they  are  represented  as  looking  over  the  scene  of  so  many  ad- 
ventures and  sufferings,  was  taken  just  after  the  capture  of  Lookout 
Mountain  by  Gen.  Hooker.  Dorsey  resigned  on  account  of  broken 
health  before  Sherman  reached  Atlanta.  He  farmed  for  some  years  ^ 

*n  Illinois  and  Nebraska,  and  af- 
terward settled  in  Kearney,  Ne- 
braska, where  he  has  been  admit- 
ted to  the  bar,  and  devotes  most 
of  his  attention  to  legal  and  real 
estate  business.  Parrott  received  < 
command  of  a company,  became 
a universal  favorite,  and  was  es- 
pecially commended  for  gallant 
conduct.  He  was  finally  dis^ 
charged  at  Savannah,  Jan.  3rd, 
1865.  He  soon  married  and  has 
since  resided  at  Kenton,  Ohio, 
meeting  with  a very  good  degree 
of  prosperity. 

E.  H.  Mason  received  a Cap- 
tain^s  commission  when  he  re- 
turned to  the  army,  and  at  the 

William  H.  Reddick.  From  a recent  photograph.  Chickamauga  found  ^ 

himself  once  more  a prisoner.  He  also,  like  Wollam,  was  recognized  and 
received  much  ill  treatment  on  account  of  the  former  adventure. 

. Martin  J.  Hawkins  returned  to  the  army  and  served  till  the  close  of  the 
war  as  a private.  He  was  wounded  in  the  back  of  the  head  by  a shell  at 
the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  but  managed  to  keep  with  his  comrades  when 
they  fell  back  to  Chattanooga,  as  he  had  no  wish  to  try  the  rebel  prisons  < 
again.  He  was  given  a commission  in  the  regular  army  in  1866,  but 
was  physically  unable  to  be  mustered.  When  able  to  work  at  all  he 
served  as  engineer.  For  a time  he  resided  in  Kansas,  and  died  at  the 
residence  of  his  son-in-law,  B.  D.  Higgins,  in  Quincy,  111.,  Feb.  7th, 
1886. 

William  H.  Reddick  and  J.  R.  Porter  have  each  furnished  me  a sketch 
of  their  adventures,  which  is  appended  in  their  own  words  slightly  abridged. 
Reddick  writes: 


Subsequent  History  of  the  Railroad  Adventurers, 


421 


Dear  Comrade: — Yours  at  hand.  Would  just  say  that  T served  through  the  war 
as  2d  Lieutenant  of  Co.  B,  33d  O.  V.  I.  I was  diseharged  July  12th,  1865,  at  Louisville, 
Ky.  After  discharge  I returned  home,  but  for  two  years  did  not  do  anything^  on  account 
* of  disability  contracted  while  a prisoner.  Finally,  all  my  financial  resources  failed,  and 
I was  obliged  to  go  to  work.  I have  since  the  war  fished  a little  in  all  kinds  of  labor, 
from  farming  to  chopping  cord-wood,  making  railroad  ties,  peddling  notions,  book 
agencies,  and  township  clerk,  back  to  honest  clod-hopping,  which  latter  I hope  will  furnish 
me  my  daily  bread  for  the  remainder  of  my  life.  I am  a living  encyclopedia  of  all  the 
aches  and  pains  that  flesh  is  heir  to — a used-up  man,  from  the  treatment  received  in  that 
abominable  hole  of  Swims’,  in  Chattanooga.  This  is  all  the  story  that  I can  give  of  my- 
^ self.  If  you  can  get  any  interesting  facts  from  it,  you  are  welcome  to  them. 

“Yours  as  ever, 

“William  H.  Reddick.” 


Porter  says: 

“ Shortly  after  I rejoined  my  regiment  we  started  on  the  Stone  River  Campaign,  which 
terminatea  in  the  capture  of  Murfreesboro.  After  a few  months  we  again  marched  for 
^ Chattanooga.  At  Cave  Spring,  Alabama,  I was  commissioned  and  mustered  as  2d  Lieu- 
tenant of  Company  G,  21st  Regiment,  O.  V.  I.,  August  29th,  1863. 

“ I was  captured  at  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  September  20th,  1863,  in  company  with 
many  more  of  the  2ist.  It  was  after  dark,  and  we  had  run  out  of  ammunition  and  were  sur- 
rounded. Fearing  that  I might  be  recognized  by  some  that  knew  us  during  our  first  impris- 
onment, 1 unbuckled  and  dropped  to  the  ground  my  sword  and  belt,  and  having  no  other 
marks  of  a commissioned  officer,  gave  a fictitious  name,  and  passed  as  a private  soldier. 
W^e  were  marched  some  distance  from  the  battle-field  that  night.  The  next  morning,  after 
finishing  our  supply  of  rations,  we  were  marched  to  Dalton,  and  after  nine  days’  ride  by 
rail,  brought  up  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  Here  we  were  put  in  what  was  called  Pemberton 
building,  on  the  corner  of  Nineteenth  and  Carey  streets,  nearly  opposite  Libby.  The  Pem- 
berton was  a large  four-story  building,  and  contained  about  fifteen  hundred  prisoners.  After 
we  had  been  there  a short  time  we  concluded  to  investigate  the  contents  of  the  basement; 
we  cut  a hole  through  the  floor,  and  found  that  it  was  stored  with  salt.  This  was  a scarce 
commodity  in  the  Confederacy,  and  very  expensive.  After  we  had  supplied  our  own  side 
t of  the  building,  we  cut  holes  through  the  doors  in  order  to  supply  our  fellow  prisoners'  ^ 
in  the  opposite  side.  They  also  concluded  to  see  what  their  side  of  the  basement  con- 
tained. I'hey  struck  sugar,  and  undertook  to  supply  us  in  the  same  way  that  we  had 
been  supplying  them  with  salt.  A few  of  us  concluded  to  try  a flank  movement  bycuiting 
a hole  through  the  brick  wall  in  the  basement.  We  succeeded  admirably.  After  we  had 
cut  our  way  through  into  the  sugar,  we  filled  our  haversacks  and  returned  to  our  respective 
places.  There  were  very  few  found  this  out  for  three  or  four  nights,  for  we  knew  that  as 
^ soon  as  it  became  generally  known  it  would  cause  a stampede.  And  there  was  a grand 
rush  made  for  sugar  one  evening,  which  continued  until  late  at  night,  causing  so  much 
excitement  that  it  attracted  the  attention  of  the  guards,  who  came  into  the  building,  called 
us  into  line,  placed  guards  and  kept  us  standing  until  the  next  morning.  We  had  sup- 
plied ourselves  with  plenty  of  sugar,  which  we  expected  would  be  taken  from  us,  but  they 
allowed  us  to  keep  what  we  had,  but  moved  the  balance  from  the  building.  After  the 
sugar  riot,  we  remained  in  Richmond  until  November  15th,  1863.  From  Richmond  we 
were  taken  to  Danville,  Virginia,  where  we  remained  during  the  following  winter. 

“ Here  we  made  several  efforts  to  escape,  but  all  to  no  avail.  We  tried  tunneling  sev- 
eral times,  but  never  succeeded.  The  prisoners  in  one  of  the  other  buildings  succeeded  in 
tunneling  out,  and  quite  a number  made  their  escape,  consequently  they  were  always  on 


422 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  alert  for  such  things,  and  searched  the  buildings  every  few  days.  During  our  stay 
here  the  small-pox  broke  out  among  us,  and  owing  to  bad  treatment,  many  died. 

“ We  took  our  departure  for  Andersonville,  Georgia,  May  15th,  1864.  When  at  Black 
Stock  Station,  South  Carolina,  I succeeded  in  making  my  escape  from  a train  of  cars  in 
company  with  T.  W.  Harrison,  a member  of  the  loth  Wisconsin  Regiment.  After  being 
out  three  days  and  nights  we  were  re-captured,  taken  back  to  the  station  where  we  made 
our  escape,  put  aboard  the  train  and  sent  to  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  where  we  arrived 
May  20th,  1864.  During  our  stay  here  we  tried  tunneling  again,  but  without  success. 

On  the  morning  of  June  29th  we  were  again  started  for  Andersonville.  We  arrived  at 
Augusta,  Georgia,  in  the  evening,  and  changed  cars  for  Millen.  Soon  after  leaving  Au- 
gusta it  became  dark,  and  as  there  was  no  light  in  the  car,  we  proceeded  to  cut  our  way 
out  by  sawing  a board  off  in  the  bottom  of  the  car  with  a table  knife  with  teeth  filed  in  the 
back  for  a saw.  We  succeeded  in  getting  a hole  through  the  bottom  of  the  car  large 
enough  to  crawl  out  at  by  nine  o’clock,  and  as  soon  as  the  train  stopped,  we  rolled  out. 

“ This  was  the  night  of  June  2Qth,  1864,  and  we  had  a long  journey  before  us.  We 
concluded  to  travel  in  a north-western  direction  and  strike  the  Federal  lines  somewhere 
between  Dalton  and  Marietta,  as  we  knew  that  General  Sherman  had  reached  Marietta,  on 
his  way  south.  When  we  escaped  we  had  two  days’  rations,  this  being  the  only  bread  we 
had  during  the  journey,  which  was  twenty-six  days  and  nights.  We  travelled  altogether  < 
at  night,  subsisting  upon  blackberries  and  Irish  potatoes.  We  were  provided  with  a 
blanket  each,  one  gallon  coffee-pot,  and  plenty  of  salt  and  matches,  so  we  could  boil  our 
potatoes.  We  once  got  a goose,  and  had  a regular  feast  on  goose  and  potatoes.  Occa- 
sionally we  would  get  some  apples  for  dessert.  Having  a pretty  good  knowledge  of  the 
country,  we  made  good  time.  During  our  journey  we  encountered  but  one  person.  We 
had  many  streams  to  cross,  but  they  were  low  at  this  time  of  the  year. 

“On  the  morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  day  out,  we  hunted  a resting-place  as  usual, 
expecting  to  hide  for  the  day.  We  had  been  in  our  retreat  but  a short  time,  when  we  were 
aroused  by  the  whistle  of  the  iron  horse,  and  soon  learned  that  we  were  near  the  railroad. 

Our  joy  was  unspeakable  ! We  gathered  up  our  traps  and  were  soon  upon  the  railroad, 
and,  as  the  train  had  passed  a short  time  before,  we  started  for  a water  station  that  was  in 
sight,  and  found  one  man  whose  business  it  was  to  pump  the  water.  We  remained  here 
until  the  first  train  came  along,  which  we  boarded  for  Marietta,  where  we  reported  to  the 
Provost  Marshal,  who  ordered  us  to  General  Thomas  at  the  front.  It  was  now  the  25th 
of  July,  and  Sherman’s  army  was  in  front  of  Atlanta.  The  next  train  that  came  south  we  ^ 
boarded,  and  were  soon  at  General  Thomas’  head-quarters.  After  giving  a full  detail  of 
everything  concerning  our  capture,  imprisonment  and  escape,  he  promised  us  each  a fur- 
lough to  go  home.  After  this  interview  we  started  for  our  regiments,  and  were  soon  with 
our  old  comrades  again  after  an  absence  of  over  ten  months.  Many  of  the  noblest,  brav- 
est and  best  who  were  taken  prisoners  with  us,  were  never  permitted  to  return. 

“ After  a leave  of  absence  for  thirty  days  I again  joined  my  regiment  (after  the  capture 
of  Atlanta),  participated  in  Sherman’s  dampaign  to  the  sea,  having  charge  of  a party  of  4 
foragers  on  that  march.  I was  mustered  out  of  service  at  Goldsboro,  N.  C.,  March  31st, 
1865.  Returning  home,  I remained  two  weeks,  then  spent  five  years  in  Kansas,  Idaho, 
Oregon,'  and  California  ; after  which  I returned  to  Ohio  and  spent  seven  years.  Moving 
to  Arkansas,  I remained  eight  years  and  again  returned  to  Ohio.  During  the  last  fifteen 
years  I have  been  engaged  in  mercantile  pursuits.” 

My  own  history  may  be  briefly  told. 

After  returning  to  the  army  I participated  in  the  march  from  Mur- 
freesboro^ toward  Chattanooga,  but  finding  my  health  so  seriously  im- 


Subseqiiejit  History  o f the  Ra ilroad  A dventurer^ . 423 

paired  that  I was  unable  to  endure  the  hardships  of  the  campaign,  I 
accepted  a discharge  for  digability  on  the  14th  of  August,  1863.  Before 
I this  time  I had  received  a commission  but  was  unable  to  be  mustered  as 
an  officer.  Returning  home  I finished  writing  the  story  of  the  railroad  raid 
in  very  brief  form,  which  was  published  under  the  same  title  as  the  present 
work,  by  J.  W.  Daughaday,  Philadelphia,  in  October  of  the  same  year. 
Before  and  after  this  time,  I gave  numerous  war  lectures,  which  may  not 
have  been  altogether  without  effect  on  political  sentiment.  In  March, 
1864,  I was  admitted  to  the  ministry  in  the  Pittsburg  Conference  of  the 
^ M.  E.  Church,  at  its  session  at  Barnesville,  Ohio.  I was  stationed  success- 
ively at  Minerva,  Massillon,  Cadiz,  and  Mount  Union,  all  in  Ohio.  In 
1869,  Fowler  and  Wells  of  New  York  published  for  me  “ Oratory,  Sacred 
and  Secular,  or  the  Extemporaneous  Speaker,”  which  had  quite  a large 
sale.  In  1870  I was  transferred  to  the  New  Jersey  Conference,  where  I 
have  ever  since  been  in  the  active  work  of  the  Ministry,  being  stationed 
% at  Woodbury,  Vineland,  Burlington,  Princeton  and  Bordentown  and 
Haddonfield;  and  am  at  present  (1893)  in  my  first  year  at  Colton,  Cali- 
fornia. In  1871  I published  through  J.  B.  Lippincott  & Co.,  Philadel- 
phia, “Capturing  a Locomotive,”  which  has  been  widely  circulated. 
Since  1876,  I have  also  been  connected  with  the  National  School  of 
Elocution  and  Oratory  in  Philadelphia,  lecturing,  and  giving  weekly 
^ lessons  on  Shakespeare,  and  Extempore  Speech.  Three  other  volumes 
of  mine  have  been  issued  by  the  publishing  house  connected  with  that 
school:  “Extempore  Speech,”  “How  to  Become  a Public  Speaker,  ” and 
“The  Debater’s  Treasury.” 

In  the  spring  of  1889  I procured  a transfer  to  the  Southern  Cali- 
fornia Conference,  and  continue  in  the  active  work  of  the  ministry  in 
^ this  winterless  climate,  being  pastor  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 
in  Colton,  San  Bernardino  Co.,  at  the  present  writing  (1893).  I have 
gained  much  in  health  from  this  California  residence. 


PENSION  BILL. 

^ Passed  July  )th^  1884. 

The  opinion  was  often  expressed  in  influential  circles  that  the  ex- 
traordinary hardships  endured  by  this  band  of  soldiers  deserved  some 
substantial  Governmental  recognition  in  the  shape  of  a pension.  Several 
of  the  adventurers  had  obtained  pensions  for  disability  under  the  general 
law,  but  for  a number  of  years  no  legislative  action  was  taken.  On 
I one  occasion,  Buffum  saw  General  Grant,  then  President,  and  called 
his  attention  to  his  own  condition,  being  at  that  time  sick  and  in  very 
straitened  circumstances.  General  Grant  was  well  acquainted  with  the 


424 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


facts,  and  disposed  to  give  help.  He  referred  the  matter  for  advice  to 
Judge  Holt,  who  returned  an  opinion  that  while  Buffum’s  story  was  true, 
and  the  case  meritorious,  the  executive  department  had  no  authority-  to 
do  more  than  to  call  the  attention  of  Congress  to  the  subject,  which 
was  done.  A bill  granting  a pension  to  the  survivors,  so  far  as  they 
were  then  known,  was  afterward  introduced  and  readily  passed  the 
House,  but  in  the  Senate  it  was  adversely  reported  and  dropped.  In 
the  next  Congress  the  bill  was  revived,  the  rate,  made  $24  per  month, 
and  after  a full  investigation  it  was  passed.  The  only  arguments  made 
against  its  passage  were  based  upon  the  criticisms  of  Gen.  J.  B.  Fry, 

* Chief  of  Staff  to  Gen.  Buell.  These  will  be  considered  in  Chapter 
XLII.  It  is  sufficient  here  to  say  that  they  had  their  origin  mainly  if 
not  entirely  in  a difference  of  opinion  between  Generals  Mitchel  and 
Buell  as  to  the  manner  in  which  war  should  be  carried  on.  The  bill  be- 
came a law  by  receiving  the  President’s  signature,  July  7th,  1884. 


CHAPTER  XXXVL 

THE  SOUTH  REVISITED  A QUARTER  OF  A CENTURY 
• AFTER, 

TO  go  freely  amid  scenes  of  peace  over  the  ground  associated  only 
in  my  mind  with  war,  prisons,  and  chains,  was  a plea^^ant  experi- 
ence which  only  limited  means  and  the  duties  of  an  exacting 
profession  long  prevented  me  from  enjoying.  At  length,  in  1886,  the 
» wished-for  opportunity  came.  Six  years  earlier,  just  before  writing  “Cap- 
turing a Locomotive,’^  I had  made  a hasty  and  partial  visit  to  the  South, 
and  the  information  then  received  made  me  anxious  to  fully  explore  this 
field.  My  resolution  was  to  search  all  records  at  Washington;  to  seek  at 
Atlanta  for  the  place  of  execution  and  the  grave  of  Andrews;  to  look  over 
the  War-files  of  Southern  newspapers;  to  visit  Flemingsburg  and  seek  out 
^ the  early  life  of  J.  J.  Andrews,  about  which  many  readers  were  curious; 
to  meet  the  survivors  of  the  party;  and  generally,  to  get  information  from 
every  source  which  the  passage  of  time  had  rendered  available  for  com- 
pleting and  illustrating  the  history  of  this  railroad  raid,  which,  in  the  esti* 
mation  of  many  critics,  is  the  most  curious  and  romantic  event  of  the 
Civil  War. 

With  time,  letters  of  introduction,  and  financial  resources  provided  by 
* friends,  there  was  every  reason  to  anticipate  success.  I was  not  disap- 
pointed. 

On  Nov.  2nd,  1886, 1 arrived  at  Washingtoh  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Pit- 
tenger.  Mr.  F.  G;  Carpenter  introduced  me  to  Mr.  Spofford,  Librarian  of 
Congress,  Col.  Scott,  Editor  of  the  Official  War  Records,  and  Mr.  Hodge- 
son,  of  the  Records  Department  of  the  War  Office,  and  I was  soon  hard  at 
• work.  My  only  grievance  was  the  shortness  of  working  hours — from  9 to 
4.  Mr.  Spofford,  whose  memory  of  books  seems  infinite,  produced  for  me 
everything  having  any  bearing  on  my  subject,  and  also  the  files  of  rebel 
newspapers  for  1862-3.  From  the  books  I secured  no  new  facts,  but 
several  valuable  illustrative  items.  The  newspapers  also  were  somewhat 
disappointing,  for  they  were  meagre  in  historical  material  as  compared  with 
^ Northern  papers.  Their  facilities  for  gathering  news  were  not  great,  the 
cencorchip  as  regarded  military  matters  was  rigid,  and  their  use  of  the 
telegraph  so  limited,  either  by  their  poverty  or  by  its  pre-occupation  for 


426 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


Government  purposes^  that  the  most  important  events  of  which  one  paper 
would  be  full  at  a certain  date  would  not  reach  another  paper  a few  hun- 
dred miles  away  for  three  or  four  days  ! But  the  time  spent  in  looking 
over  the  papers  was  far  from  lost;  nothing  could  have  so  fully  recalled  the 
spirit  of  those  days — their  intolerable  prejudices,  bitterness  of  feeling,  and 
the  strange  illusions  under  which  the  war  was  fought. 

But  a far  deeper  interest  was  evoked  in  Col.  Scott's  office.  The 
Government  is  there  selecting  from  the  official  reports  and  correspondence 
of  the  war,  those  papers  which  possess  permanent  interest,  for  the  purpose 
of  publication.  Already  some  twenty-five  great  volumes  are  in  print,  and 
the  work  is  scarcely  one-third  done  ! No  history  of  any  part  of  the  Civil  War 
will  have  any  standard  value  in  the  future  which  does  not  rest  on  these 
reports.  Of  that  not  yet  printed,  much  has  been  classified  by  months  and 
subjects,  becoming  thus  easily  accessible.  I was  kindly  supplied  with  a 
writing  table^  and  all  the  bundles  of  MSS.  I called  for  were  furnished,  with 
only  the  reasonable  condition  that  I should  rearrange  each  as  I found  it. 
Never  have  I had  a more  fascinating  employment,  though  it  sometimes 
became  positively  painful.  To  be  thus  groping  among  the  very  papers 
and  orders  which  once  had  the  power  of  life  and  death  to  thousands,  to 
see  the  secret  springs  of  events  with  which  I was  familiar  on  the  outside 
and  often  wholly  misunderstood,  to  feel  that  at  any  moment  I might  come 
across  a great  historical  prize,  to  see  the  very  hearts  of  men  laid  bare, 
often  with  startling  revelations  of  greatness  and  meanness — all  written  in 
dim  and  almost  faded  characters  which  were  never  intended  for  the  public 
eye — this  caused  the  hours  to  pass  by  almost  like  minutes.  Nothing  that 
I found  had  a deeper  personal  interest  than  the  letter  expressly  marked 
as  private  of  one  Confederate  to  another  which  led  to  my  own  release 
from  a rebel  prison.  There  was  also — far  earlier — the  order  to  proceed 
with  the  trial  of  spies, — an  order  which,  but  for  the  intervention  of  Prov- 
idence in  the  form  of  an  advance  of  Union  armies,  would  have  led  to  my 
own  death  on  a scaffold. 

But  I was  not  satisfied  with  examining  those  documents  which  had  been 
selected  for  publication.  There  might  be  others  among  the  great  mass  in 
the  war  archives  of  even  higher  interest.  Of  one  document  published  in 
the  official  reports,  Vol.  X,  I wished  to  see  the  original,  and  secure 
a photographic  copy  for  lithographing.  This  was  the  petition  of  our  party 
which  reached  Jefferson  Davis  and  received  his  endorsement  upon  it — a 
hard,  merciless  command  which  neither  he  nor  his  friends  could  take  any 
pleasure  in  reading  ! 

The  war  records  are  guarded  very  carefully,  as  is  right.  The  Govern- 
ment does  not  allow  its  own  archives  to  be  used  as  a basis  for  sustaining 
claims  against  itself.  And  there  is  always  the  possibility  that  some  valu- 
able but  compromising  paper  might  be  abstracted.  A letter  to  the  Secretary 


The  South  Revisited. 


427 


of  War,  however,  removed  all  obstacles  in  my  own  case.  I not  only  found 
the  document  wanted,  but  another  letter  of  even  greater  interest,  written 
by  myself  to  Jefferson  Davis  on  a terrible  day.  I think  I was  able  to  get 
hold  of  everything  in  the  department  which  could  throw  any  light  on  the 
raid.  Then  a swift  journey  over  the  Piedmont  Air  Line  carried  us  to 
Atlanta. 

In  this  city,  Mr.  F.  J,  Cooke  not  only  rendered  me  most  valuable 
services,  but  had  by  careful  inquiries  almost  if  not  quite  accomplished  one 
of  the  chief  objects  of  my  visit — the  location  of  the  grave  of  Andrews.  The 
evening  was  cold  and  gloomy  when  Mr.  Cooke,  Mrs.  Pittenger,  and  myself 
drove  to  the  spot.  The  beautiful  houses  of  Peachtree  street — the  finest 
avenue  of  Atlanta,  or  perhaps  in  the  South — were  passed  with  but  little 
comment,  until  the  thin  and  scattering  woods  beyond  were  reached.  The  - 
land  here  is  said  to  be  all  laid  out  in  town  lots,  but  held  at  high  valuation 
and  not  yet  built  upon.  The  story  told  to  all  who  had  inquired  about  this 
grave  was  that  the  execution  and  burial  had  taken  place  in  what  was  now 
a compactly  built  portion  of  the  city,  where  the  grade  had  been  changed, 
and  that  the  site  was  hopelessly  lost.  I presume  that  we  were  not  inten- 
tionally misled,  but  in  the  confusion  occasioned  by  the  burning  of  the  city, 
some  one  had  made  this  statement,  and  it  was  caught  up,  as  such  things 
are,  without  investigation,  and  repeated  until  generally  believed. 

In  a little  ravine  two  or  three  hundred  yards  from  the  roadside  we  were 
shown  where  the  scaffold  had  stood.  Here  the  sad,  pathetic  tragedy  of 
twenty-five  years  ago  had  culminated.  The  poor  fugitive,  who  had  been 
twice  hunted  down  by  dogs  and  men,  was  alone  in  the  midst  of  his  enemies. 
His  feet,  on  which  cruel  fetters  had  been  riveted  by  an  unwilling  black- 
smith, probably  still  clanged  with  the  chains  from  which  they  were  not 
released  even  by  death.  How  the  calm,  pensive  soul  of  that  brave  man 
must  have  thrilled  in  view  of  the  near  lifting  of  the  mists  on  the  other  side 
of  that  Jordan  ” whose  secrets  he  said  he  had  often  wished  to  behold  ! He 
had  tried  to  serve  his  country,  had  nobly  failed,  and  was  now  about  to  pay 
the  penalty.  We  can  well  believe  that  no  word  of  insult — such  as  had 
often  been  heaped  upon  him  a few  days  before — was  spoken  then;  that 
even  those  who  were  most  determined  on  shedding  his  blood  were  awed 
into  silence;  and  that  outside  of  the  rope  barrier  there  may  have  even 
gone  up  prayers  for  him  from  Christian  hearts.  All  seems  to  come  back 
now;  and  when  the  cold  face  was  laid  in  the  earth,  with  no  barrier  of  boards 
to  protect  it,  the  cup  of  earthly  misfortune  for  one  human  heart  had  been 
filled  to  the  brim.  It  seems  little  that  at  last  his  bones  should  be  coffined 
and  honored.  But  perhaps  in  the  life  beyond,  toward  which  the  sufferings 
of  prison  and  the  swiftly  nearing  shadow  of  the  scaffold  had  turned  his 
heart,  the  little  we  now  can  do  will  not  be  without  its  value. 

The  spot  pointed  out  as  the  grave  was  some  three  hundred  yards  from 


428 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


the  scaffold,  on  a little  dividing  line  between  two  small  ravines,  and  some 
dozen  yards  away  from  a large  stone.  The  latter  was  spoken  of  at  the 
time  as  a convenient  landmark  and  still  remains.* 

Very  quiet  and  still  were  we  as  we  drove  back  again  to  the  lighted  city. 

The  next  day  the  same  party,  with  the  addition  of  Captain  Fuller,  the  ^ 
conductor  whose  train  had  been  captured,  visited  the  Atlanta  city  cemetery 
and  stood  upon  the  site  of  the  still  greater  tragedy  consummated  on  the 
i8th  of  June,  1862.  Capt.  Fuller  was  among  the  spectators  then,  and 
took  the  dying  message  of  Ross,  heard  the  wonderful  speech  of  Wilson, 
and  when  all  was  over  carefully  marked  the  seven-fold  grave.  Long  since 
the  remains  were  removed  to  the  National  Cemetery  at  Chattanooga,  and 
appropriately  marked,  but  this  spot  will  ever  remain  hallowed  ground. 

There  was  a meeting  of  the  prison  Congress  in  Atlanta  presided  over  by 
Ex-President  Hayes,  which  opened  the  evening  of  our  arrival,  A num- 
ber of  addresses  were  made  by  prominent  citizens  of  Georgia,  full  of  senti- 
ments of  hearty  devotion  to  the  Union.  These  with  the  enthusiastic  cheers 
they  evoked  from  the  inhabitants  of  this  beautiful  and  prosperous  Southern 
city  sounded  strangely  after  the  memories  of  the  afternoon.  But  surely 
no  one  can  rejoice  more  over  manifestations  which  prove  the  reality  of 
Union  than  those  who  suffered  to  preserve  it;  and  the  prophecies  of  Wil- 
son have  been  abundantly  fulfilled  in  the  city  with  which  his  name  will 
ever  be  associated. 

The  war  files  of  Atlanta  newspapers  had  an  especial  interest.  The 
Young  Men^s  Library  possesses  these  almost  complete,  and  I found  again 
a copy  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  of  April  15th,  which  I had  pur- 
loined from  the  jailor  Swims  in  Chattanooga  and  carried  home.  This 
contained  the  first  full  account  of  the  capture  of  the  train,  though  several 
partial  ones  had  preceded  it,  and  the  paper  contained  many  deeply  inter- 
esting references  to  the  subject  during  six  months  afterward. 

It  would  have  been  no  small  degree  of  melancholy  pleasure  to  have 
once  more  visited  the  prison  in  Atlanta — the  scene  of  that  darkest  day 
when  loved  comrades  were  hurried  to  death,  and  where  the  consolations 
of  religion  first  arose  to  overcome  the  fear  of  death;  but  the  prison  had 
been  twice  destroyed  and  rebuilt.  There  was  first  a temporary  log  struc- 
ture in  place  of  the  brick  building  we  knew,  and  then,  when  Atlanta  became 
a state  capital,  and  a large  city,  a more  pretentious  jail  took  the  place  of  the 
old,  having,  at  the  time  I visited  it,  some  120  inmates;  but  its  larger  size  and 
greater  accommodations  did  not  in  the  least  supply  to  me  the  place  of  the 
rude  house  kept  by  Turner  ! The  surrounding  country  looked  familiar, 
and  I could  realize  very  vividly  the  scenes  of  that  day  of  suspense,  when 

'On  April  iith,  1887,  the  government  authorities  acting  on  information  secured  during 
the  above  visit,  and  by  the  direct  orders  of  the  U.  S.  Secretary  of  War,  disinterred  the  re- 
mains of  J.  J.  Andrews  for  burial  with  his  comrades  at  Chattanooga. 


The  South  Revisited. 


429 


we  believed  that  our  only  hope  of  escape  from  speedy  death  lay  in  wresting 
their  muskets  from  the  armed  guard  by  whom  we  were  surrounded.  The 
old  jailor,  Turner — a kindly  and  merciful  man — had  long  been  dead.  The 
present  incumbent  in  his  office,  a Major  Poole,  greeted  me  kindly,  saying 
that  it  was  always  a great  treat  to  meet  a Union  soldier  and  talk  over  the 
war  times;  adding  the  quaint  remark,  “ We  whipped  you  and  whipped  you 
until  we  naturally  wore  ourselves  out  at  it  and  had  to  give  up  ! ” This  was 
really  an  epitome  of  the  whole  contest  from  a Southern  point  of  view;  or, 
as  engineer  Knight  says  in  describing  the  battle  of  Brown  and  himself  with 
bloodhounds,  “ We  won  the  victory  but  evacuated  the  ground  ! ” 

I would  have  also  liked  to  visit  the  building  used  as  barracks,  where  a 
season  of  comparative  peace  was  enjoyed  by  the  recaptured  remnant  of  oui 
party.  But  this  portion  of  Atlanta  was  burned  by  Sherman,  and  afterward 
completely  changed. 

A still  greater  interest,  perhaps,  centered  in  the  road  we  had  striven 
to  destroy.  I visited  Jos.  M.  Brown,  son  of  Ex-Governor  Brown,  General 
Passenger  Agent  of  the  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad,  who  received  me  with 
every  courtesy,  and  gave  me  fine  maps  of  the  road,  together  with  a month's 
free  pass.  After  going  twice  over  the  route  alone  and  examining  every 
point,  I secured  the  company  of  Capt.  Fuller,  who  took  great  pleasure  in 
making  me  understand  every  detail  of  the  wonderful  pursuit  on  the  part 
of  himself  and  Murphy;  and  some  matters  which  had  always  seemed  mys- 
terious became  perfectly  plain  when  thus  explained  on  the  ground.  It 
was  hard  to  realize  as  we  chatted  amiably  together  that  we  had  been  en- 
gaged on  opposite  sides  in  deadly  strife,  and  had  sought  by  every  resource 
in  our  power  to  destroy  each  other  on  this  very  line  ! 

I found  Chattanooga  marvelously  changed — even  more  than  Atlanta. 
The  latter  is  a beautiful  and  stately  city,  but  still  distinctly  Southern  in. 
type;  while  Chattanooga  is  largely  built  up  by  Northern  enterprise  and 
has  become  a great  manufacturing  centre.  Little  care  is  in  it  for  the 
stories  or  traditions  of  the  past ! In  every  sense  it  is  progressive,  filled 
with  the  rush  of  improvements,  as  speculative  and  pushing  as  a Western  me- 
tropolis, and  looking  for  a great  future.  Scarcely  any  landmarks  of  the  old 
city  are  left,  as  is  but  natural  when  we  remember  that  it  had  but  three 
thousand  inhabitants  in  1862,  and  now,  1887,  has  30,000!  I found  the 
site  of  the  old  Swims  jail — long  since  destroyed, — on  Lookout  Streets 
between  Fourth  and  Fifth,  near  what  is  called  Brabson’s  Hill.  Mr.  Allen, 
Chief  of  Police,  an  old  Confederate  soldier,  located  it  exactly  for  me. 
There  was  only  one  thing  that  I remembered  belonged  to  the  surround- 
ings— the  house  of  William  Lewis,  a colored  man — which  had  been  pointed 
out  to  us  because  it  stood  close  to  the  jail  and  was  a very  good  house  for 
that  day. 

I had  an  amusing  experience  regarding  the  location  of  this  Chattanooga' 


430 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


prison,  which  illustrates  the  old  truth  of  how  easy  it  is  to  be  mistaken.  Fuller 
asked  if  I would  like  to  visit  my  former  prison.  I assured  him  that  few  things 
would  give  me  greater  pleasure,  but  that  I had  little  hope,  as  I had  been  ^ 
told  that  it  was  long  since  demolished.  He  declared  this  to  be  a mistake 
and  offered  to  conduct  me  to  the  spot.  For  a moment,  remembering  the  ^ 
error  about  the  grave  of  Andrews,  I did  indulge  the  hope  that  I might  be 
able  to  see  the  old  place  once  more,  especially  as  Fuller  was  perfectly 
confident  of  having  visited  us  there  and  being  acquainted  with  all  the  sur- 
roundings. He  took  me  without  hesitation  down  Market  Street  to  the 
corner  of  Fourth,  and  stopping  before  the  old  city  building,  said,  Here  it  ^ 
is.”  I remained  silent  for  a moment,  for  the  thought  was  struggling  in 
my  mind,  “ How  can  such  a mistake  be  made  by  a man  so  intelligent 
and  well  informed?  ” He  continued,  “ And  now,  Pittenger,  you  see  how 
mistaken  your  party  were  in  thinking  they  were  put  underground  in  a 
dungeon.  None  of  the  rooms  in  this  building  are  below  the  level  of  the 
ground;  but  I do  not  wonder  that  you  thought  they  were,  for  you  first  4 
went  upstairs  and  then  down  a ladder.” 

The  building  was  one  of  fair  proportions,  and  none  of  the  rooms  could 
have  been  very  dark  or  close.  Was  it  possible  that  all  the  story  of  the 
terrible  hole  of  Chattanooga  was  only  an  evil  dream  ? I had  no  doubt, 
but  some  curiosity;  so  I said,  “ Are  you  sure  that  this  is  the  place 

He  said  he  was,  but  to  make  it  still  more  certain,  asked  several  of  the 
bystanders  if  that  was  not  the  building  where  the  Union  prisoners  were 
kept?  They  all  answered  in  the  affirmative;  but  noticing  that  I did  not 
appear  satisfied,  he  called  to  a very  old  man  who  just  then  came  across  the 
street,  asking  him  how  long  he  had  lived  in  Chattanooga;  and  was  told  that 
he  had  been  there  constantly  for  forty  years.  “ Then,”  said  Fuller, 

” you  can  tell  us  what  building  the  Union  prisoners  were  kept  in.  ” “ Why 

in  this  one  right  by  you,  of  course;  both  Federal  and  Confederate  prisoners  c 
were  in  the  same  place,”  was  the  confident  answer. 

Fuller  clapped  me  on  the  shoulder  and  said,  ‘‘  You  will  have  to  give  it 
up,  Pittenger.”  “ Not  yet,”  I answered;  turning  to  the  old  man,  I said, 

“ Was  there  any  other  prison  in  town?^’  For  a little  time  he  reflected, 
and  then  said,  “ I think  there  was;  a very  small  one;  but  not  many  pris- 
oners were  kept  in  it.’^  “Where  was  that,”  I asked.  “About  three  | 

squares  from  here,”  he  replied  “ It  was  so  small  that  it  would  only  hold 
three  or  four  at  a time,  and  was  kept  by  a man  called  Swims.” 

Fuller  looked  less  triumphant,  and  I asked  further,  “ Do  you  remember 
about  some  bridge-burners  captured  in  the  early  part  of  the  war?”  He 
said  that  he  remembered  them  very  well.  “Where  were  they  put?”  I 
asked.  He  answered  at  once  and  very  confidently,  “ Oh  ! they  were  put 
in  Swims’  jail.” 

I clapped  Fuller  on  the  shoulder  and  asked  him  if  he  was  ready  to  give 


The  South  Revisited, 


431 


It  up.  He  very  frankly  acknowledged  his  mistake,  saying  that  he  sup- 
posed that  he  had  visited  other  prisoners  here  so  often  and  visited  us  at 
other  places,  and  thus  got  the  locations  confused. 

I have  been  the  more  particular  to  relate  this,  because  almost  any  per- 
son in  Chattanooga  would  make  the  same  mistake  if  not  put  on  guard. 

I had  a strong  desire  to  go  out  to  the  village  of  Lafayette,  where  I had 
my  first  experience  of  prison  life.  No  railroad  led  to  the  place,  and  the 
roads  were  muddy,  so  that  all  conditions  of  country  and  weather  were  very 
like  those  of  former  times.  Two  days  were  required  for  the  trip.  On 
the  way  out  we  found  as  dinner  time  drew  near  that  we  were  far  from  any 
hotel.  With  the  hospitality  of  the  South  in  view  this  seemed  to  give  us 
only  a better  opportunity  of  seeing  the  present  state  of  the  country.  Pro- 
bably we  made  a mistake  in  asking  at  the  best-looking  houses;  but  it  was 
not  until  after  seven  applications  that  a dinner  was  found  ! The  refusals 
were  kindly  enough,  good  excuses  being  offered,  but  the  people  were  fear- 
fully unanimous  ! Our  hostess  was  a lady  of  nearly  sixty,  who  had  lived 
in  that  one  place  all  her  life  with  the  exception  of  about  a year  and  a half, 
when  “ there  was  too  much  fighting  along  the  road.’'  She  said  that  she 
did  not  feel  like  leaving  home  on  account  of  the  soldiers,  until  one  day  a 
cannon  ball  came  through  her  sitting-room  door  and  broke  her  fire  shovel; 
she  thought  it  then  time  to  move  off. 

At  Lafayette  I was  rejoiced  to  find  everything  in  almost  exactly  the 
same  state  I had  known  it.  The  old  hotel  where  I had  been  cross-exam- 
ined for  four  hours  was  unchanged,  and  I had  the  privilege  of  lodging  in 
it  for  the  night.  But  I inquired  with  still  deeper  solicitude  for  the  jail 
with  its  iron  cage.  I was  gratified  to  learn  that  it  still  stood,  and  was 
unchanged,  except  that  port-holes  had  been  pierced  in  its  brick  walls  by 
Union  soldiers  during  their  fight  with  cavalry  in  1863.  Myself  and  friend 
found  the  jail  standing  open,  and  were  enabled  to  explore  it  without  hin- 
drance. For  years  no  prisoner  had  been  placed  in  it.  The  explanation 
given  of  this  strange  state  of  affairs  in  a county  jail  was  that  “ local  option 
ruled.”  For  a few  moments  I was  again  in  the  iron  cage  that  I had 
known  so  long  before,  but  there  was  no  crowd  of  men  and  women  outside 
to  comment  on  my  appearance  ! My  companion,  Frederick  Gates  of 
Chattanooga,  who  made  an  accurate  sketch  of  the  building,  was  soon  an 
object  of  more  interest  than  myself,  for  the  people  learned  that  he  was  a 
land  agent  and  were  anxious  to  sell  their  farms  at  prices  that  seemed  to 
me  exceedingly  low.  But  there  had  been  scarcely  any  sign  of  improve- 
ment for  the  last  twenty-five  years  and  they  were  almost  cut  off  from  the 
outside  world.  No  doubt  a railroad  would  work  a great  transformation. 

The  editor  of  the  Chattanooga  Times  suggested  to  me  that  it  might 
be  well  to  visit  Gen.  E.  Kirby  Smith,  who  was  located  at  the  University  of 
Sewanee,  on  the  summit  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  some  sixty  or 


432 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


seventy  miles  from  Chattanooga,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  any  war  papers 
he  might  have  General  Smith  received  me  cordially,  but  assured  me 
that  he  had  no  document  whatever  bearing  in  any  way  upon  the  raid,  or 
the  trials  of  the  men  engaged  in  it.  I had  hoped  to  learn  from  him 
whether  it  had  been  the  intention  of  the  Confederate  authorities,  of  whom 
he  was  chief,  to  try  the  whole  party  or  only  the  twelve  who  were  sent  to 
Knoxville;  also  the  reason  for  not  proceeding  against  the  survivors,  after 
their  removal  from  Knoxville.  On  the  first  point  he  could  give  me  no 
information.  All  papers  had  been  turned  over  to  his  successor  and  pro- 
bably lost,  while  he  did  not  remember  anything  definite.  In  regard  to 
the  second,  he  said  that  he  had  no  doubt  that  “ the  case  against  you  had 
gone  by  default  and  many  of  us  were  glad  to  have  it  go  that  way.”  But 
while  I received  little  direct  information,  the  conversation  with  a well  in- 
formed and  acute-minded  man,  who  had  held  my  life  in  his  hands  for 
months  together,  was  wonderfully  interesting  and  stimulating. 

The  next  point  visited  was  the  beautiful  metropolis  of  East  Tennessee, 
Knoxville.  Here  I met  Judge  O.  P.  Temple,  one  of  the  attorneys  who 
had  defended  our  party  on  the  memorable  Court-Martial  which  had  termi- 
nated so  tragically.  His  kindness  was  unbounded,  but  I regretted  to  find 
that  Judge  Baxter,  our  other  benefactor,  had  been  dead  for  a year  past. 
I had  the  pleasure  of  tendering  to  the  son  the  thanks  which  could  no 
longer  be  given  to  the  father.  Judge  Temple  showed  me  the  old  court- 
house (now  used  as  a school)  in  which  the  trials  took  place,  but  the  jail 
was  gone. 

From  Knoxville  I started  to  Flemingsburg,  to  ascertain  all  that  I could 
.about  the  life  of  Andrews  previous  to  his  embarking  on  the  Railroad 
Adventure.  This  I regarded  as  the  most  difficult  and  important  part  of 
my  journey.  The  character  of  Andrews  and  all  that  was  known  of  his 
early  life  tended  powerfully  to  stimulate  curiosity.  I found  that  Flem- 
ingsburg was  on  the  branch  of  an  obscure  railroad,  and  was  only  reached 
after  much  zig-zag  travelling.  Arriving  a little  before  noon  on  Saturday, 
I found  the  town,  though  a county  seat,  to  be  a mere  village,  only  a liitle 
less  rural  and  out  of  the  world  than  Lafayette,  Ga.  How  such  a man  as 
Andrews,  with  his  powerful  genius  and  refined  manners,  could  have  settled 
down  in  such  a place  was  a problem  to  be  solved  if  possible;  or  had  we, 
through  the  glamor  of  suffering,  misfortune,  and  time,  completely  idealized 
him  ? Within  an  hour  I was  relieved  of  at  least  one  great  fear — that  of 
not  finding  any  knowledge  of  Andrews  in  the  place.  It  is  a strange  feel- 
ing one  has  when  making  inquiries  for  persons  who  have  been  dead  for  a 
quarter  of  a century — very  much  like  stumbling  about  over  forgotten 
graves  ! But  Andrews  was  not  forgotten,  and  I soon  learned  that  there 
were  very  especial  reasons  wh^'”  he  should  be  held  in  remembrance,  and  a 
portion  of  his  history  at  least  spread  upon  the  county  records.  The  land- 


The  South  Revisited, 


433 


lord,  in  response  to  inquiries,  said  that  he  had  only  been  eleven  years 
in  the  place  but  that  he  would  introduce  me  to  an  Andrews  in  the  bank 
who  could  probably  tell  me  what  I wished  to  know.  I knew  he  could  not 
be  a relative,  but  thought  it  as  well  to  begin  at  that  point  as  at  any  other- 
judge  of  my  surprise  when  Mr.  Andrews  of  the  bank  told  me  that  he  had 
just  written  a letter  to  a gentleman  of  Missouri  on  the  same  subject ! In 
a few  minutes  H.  C.  Ashton,  the  postmaster,  and  James  B.  Jackson,  a 
retired  hotel  keeper,  both  old  friends  of  J.  J.  Andrews,  came  into  the  bank, 
and  we  were  asking  and  answering  questions  as  fast  as  we  could  find  words  ! 
They  had  never  seen  one  of  the  prison  comrades  of  Andrews;  I had  never 
seen  any  person  who  had  known  him  before  the  war:  and  there  was  so 
much  to  say  that  the  important  business  of  dinner  was  almost  forgotten. 

In  the  afternoon  I was  shown  the  letter  of  Andrews  written  just  before 
death.  The  old  tattered  original  is  preserved  with  scrupulous  care;  and 
a careful  copy  has  been  placed  among  the  records  of  wills.  The  reason 
for  this  is  furnished  by  a remarkable  financial  transaction  of  which  he  was 
the  centre.  Andrews  deposited  twelve  hundred  dollars  in  gold  in  the  Flem- 
ingsburg  bank,  and  gave  a check  for  that  amount  with  interest,  to  Mr.  D.  S. 
McGavic,  a trusted  friend,  with  instructions,  in  case  he  should  perish  in 
the  critical  business  in  which  he  was  engaged,  to  draw  it  out  and  lend  it 
on  good  security,  and  give  the  interest  as  a perpetual  legacy  to  the  poor. 
In  his  last  letter  written  just  before  execution,  he  says  to  his  friend,  “ in 
regard  to  other  matters,  do  exactly  as  instructed  before  I left.”  The  re- 
ceipt of  this  letter  containing  certain  intelligence  of  the  tragic  fate  of  their 
townsman,  of  which  they  had  only  heard  rumors  before,  filled  the  little 
village  with  sorrow;  and  this  was  greatly  intensified  when  the  touching 
bequest  of  all  his  savings  to  the  poor  in  their  midst  was  made  known. 
Many  references  to  this  universal  mourning  were  made;  one  gentleman 
saying  to  me,  Nothing  that  ever  happened,  not  the  darkest  calamities  of 
the  war,  ever  cast  such  a gloom  over  our  town  as  this  news  from  Mr.  An- 
drews.’^ McGavic  drew  the  money  as  ordered,  but  not  wishing  to  take  the 
responsibility  of  investing  it  upon  himself,  he  asked  the  court  to  appoint  a 
trustee.  Then  followed  an  unpleasant  history.  Col.  Dudley  was  appointed 
trustee,  and  loaned  the  money  in  several  sums  on  slender  security.  The 
borrowers  afterward  fell  into  bankruptcy,  and  the  money  was  declared  lost. 
But  even  worse  was  behind.  In  the  year  1875  whole  matter  was  brought 
out,  and  proceedings  set  on  foot  to  punish  the  great  apparent  wrong  and 
compel  restitution.  Col.  Dudley  and  his  associates  were  quite  hardly 
pressed,  when  their  attorney,  W.  A.  Cord,  opportunely  discovered  some 
persons  who  claimed  to  be  heirs  of  Andrews.  They  did  nor  know  the 
money  was  all  lost  and  were  easily  induced  to  bring  suit  for  it.  Esquire 
Cord  himself  testified  that  Andrews  had  told  him  that  he  came  from 
Holliday’s  Cove,  in  Hancock  Co.,  West  Virginia,  the  former  residence  of 


434 


Darmg  aitd  Suffering, 


these  parties.  There  a series  of  affidavits  were  taken  in  due  form  showing 
the  parentage  and  early  life  of  Andrews  and  his  relationship  to  these 
claimants.  So  far  as  the  evidence  on  the  books  went^  all  seemed  clear, 
though  the  relationship  was  distant;  and  in  some  way,  the  suit  against 
Col.  Dudley  for  fraudulent  use  of  trust  funds  was  discontinued^;  then  the 
so-called  heirs  were  informed  that  no  money  remained  unexpended  ! I 
read  the  evidence  on  file  at  Flemingsburg,  and  the  whole  story  was  far  from 
creditable. 

For  me^  the  greatest  interest  of  these  proceedings  was  in  the  light  they 
seemed  to  throw  on  the  early  life  of  our  leader.  The  picture  was  not 
flattering;  the  family  connection,  as  a citizen  of  Holliday’s  Cove  afterward 
expressively  said,  ‘^was  the  lowest  of  the  low/’  their  story  including 
squalid  poverty,  vagabondage  and  drunkenness.  But  sometimes  persons 
rise  above  their  surroundings;  and  at  any  rate,  truth,  not  romance,  was  the 
object  of  search.  I will  anticipate  the  order  of  my  journey  to  say  that  a 
week  after  I visited  Holliday^s  Cove^  in  company  with  my  old  friend. 
Captain  Sarratt,  and  speedily  found  that  the  whole  story  was  a sham.  Our 
James  J.  Andrews  was  totally  unknown;  and  as  the  place  was  only  a 
country  neighborhood  where  everybody  had  known  everybody  else  for  a 
lifetime,  the  presumption  was  strong  that  he  had  never  been  there  at  all. 
But  a James  Tolman  Andrews  was  known,  and  to  him  the  affidavits  truth- 
fully referred.  The  only  points  of  similarity  were  in  the  first  and  last 
names — both  com^mon — and  in  his  having  left  that  part  of  the  country 
near  the  opening  of  the  war.  But  James  T.  Andrews  was  short  and  light, 
with  no  point  of  physical  resemblance  to  James  J.  Andrews;  he  was  ten 
years  younger,  and,  most  decisive  of  all,  was  living  in  Kansas  long  after 
the  close  of  the  war  ! The  pretended  identification  was  absurd,  but  it 
had  probably  served  its  purpose  ! 

While  in  Flemingsburg  I was  shown  the  house  where  Andrews  first 
boarded,  and  many  specimens  of  his  work  in  painting  houses,  boxes,  etc. 
One  person  after  another  came  to  me  claiming  to  have  been  on  terms  of 
friendly  intimacy  with  him.  It  struck  me  as  a little  remarkable  that  very 
many  of  them,  notwithstanding  they  knew  him  to  be  a spy,  referred  to 
his  truthfulness  as  one  of  his  distinguishing  traits  ! You  could  believe 
every  word  he  said;”  was  repeated  many  times;  and  when  I said  that  the 
Confederates  found  differently,  they  would  admit  the  contradiction,' but 
repeat  the  former  statement.  I made  sure  from  their  testimony  that  the 
man  was  not  a natural  deceiver,  but  on  occasion  of  becoming  a spy  had 
forced  hinxself  for  a great  purpose  to  act  a part  not  belonging  to  his 
character. 

So  vividly  did  these  repeated  conversations  with  the  old  acquaintances 
of  Andrews  recall  my  own  sorrow  for  my  friend  and  leader,  together  with 
all  the  dreadful  scenes  of  the  past,  that  when  the  evening  came  I was  com- 


The  South  Revisited, 


435 


pletely  unnerved;  a raging  headache  with  a sense  of  utter  prostration 
forcibly  reminded  me — not  for  the  first  time  on  this  journey  so  fraught 
with  tragical  memories — that  feeling  is  more  exhausting  than  any  form  of 
physical  exertion.  I did  not  sleep  much  that  Saturday  nighty  for  I was 
living  over  again  the  whole  story,  from  Andrews’  point  of  view,  as  I had 
so  often  gone  over  it  from  my  own.  , I had  some  other  investigations 
to  make,  probably  of  still  more  sad  and  pitiful  character,  connected  with 
the  betrothal  of  Andrews,  but  was  glad  of  the  Sabbath’s  rest  before  be- 
ginning them. . I attended  the  little  village  church  where  Andrews  had 
often  attended,  and  heard  a plain  and  sensible  sermon;  but  I was  listen- 
ing to  an  inward  one  far  more  powerful,  of  stern  and  sad  application, 
preached  on  the  vanity  of  human  endeavor.  How  Andrews  had  striven  ! 
with  what  activity,  resolution,  and  daring  courage  ! and  with  what  result ! 
His  enterprises  had  miscarried,  he  had  spent  his  last  days  in  chains,  his 
body  was  flung  cofflnless  into  the  ground,  and  his  money,  the  only  tangible 
result  of  such  sacrifices  that  many  of  his  townsmen  could  appreciate,  left 
as  a perpetual  benediction  to  the  poor,  was  ruthlessly  squandered;  and  as 
the  last  memorial  of  all,  an  empty  trunk  returned  to  his  betrothed  ! My 
heart  ached  in  view  of  such  sorrow  ! But  a gleam  of  light  shone  on  the 
cloud;  as  I recalled  the  words  of  his  wonderful  letter  written  at  the  foot 
of  the  scaffold,  I felt  that  all  his  sufferings  had  not  been  in  vain:  “ I 
have  now  calmly  submitted  to  my  fate,  and  have  been  earnestly  engaged 
in  preparing  to  meet  my  GocTin  peace.  And  I have  found  that  peace  of 
mind  and  tranquillity  of  soul  which  even  astonishes  m3^self.  I never  sup- 
posed it  possible  that  a man  could  feel  so  complete  a change  under  similar 

circumstances We  may  meet  in  heaven  where  the  troubles  and 

trials  of  this  life  never  enter.”  There  is  something  better  than  worldly 
success,  when  it  bears  this  fruit ! 

On  Monday,  I first  procured  a photograph  of  the  village  of  Flemings- 
burg,  and  copied  the  evidence,  since  found  to  be  worthless,  of  the  pre- 
tended heirs  of  Andrews  and  their  friends.  Advisers  differed  as  to 
whether  it  was  better  to  go  to  Mill  Creek  to  seek  the  story  of  the  betrothal 
or  in  an  opposite  direction.  However,  the  indication  given  in  the  letter 
regarding  the  empty  trunk  seemed  to  me  more  likely  to  be  right  than 
any  other:  so  I drove  in  a drizzling  rain  out  the  Maysville  turnpike 
for  some  eight  miles,  and  came  to  the  old  Lindsey  residence.  I had 
previously  learned  of  the  owner’s  death,  but  the  widow,  now  very  old, 
still  lived  in  the  same  house.  When  she  entered  the  large,  quaint  front 
room,  and  I saw  how  old  she  was,  I almost  feared  that  she  would  be  unable  to 
fix  her  mind  upon  the  facts  I wished;  but  the  first  mention  of  Andrews^ 
name  aroused  her  deepest  interest.  She  remembered  all  about  the  be- 
trothal, and  it  was  indeed  through  her  husband  and  herself  that  the  young 
people  had  been  introduced.  As  we  talked,  a middle-aged  lady  came  into 


43^ 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


the  room,  and  for  a moment  my  pulse  quickened  with  the  thought,  “ Per- 
haps this  is  she  of  whom  I am  in  search,  and  I will  hear  her  sad  romance 
from  her  own  lips  ? But  she  was  introduced  as  Mrs.  Lindsey's  own 
daughter.  Elizabeth  J.  Layton  was  the  one  of  whom  I was  inquiring. 
She  had  lived  with  Mrs.  Lindsey  some  six  years,  as  after  dier  father’s 
second  marriage  it  was  less  pleasant  at  her  own  home.  Mrs.  Lindsey  de- 
scribed her  as  “ a member  of  the  ‘Christian  Church/  a good  religious 
girl,  of  medium  height,  fine  form,  dark  eyes  and  dark,  wavy  hair. 

It  was  in  this  room  that  Andrews  courted  her.  They  were  very  af- 
fectionate and  happy  until  the  terrible  war  came  on;  she  was  not  rich, 
but  had  a little  property  in  her  own  right,  and  was  economical  and  a good 
worker.  She  would  have  made  him  a good  wife.  And  now  can  you  tell,” 
she  said,  “ if  it  was  really  true  that  he  was  a spy?  We  would  not  have 
thought  anything  so  bad  as  that  of  him,  for  we  loved  him  as  our  own  son. 
He  painted  all  the  new  part  of  our  house,  and  was  here  a good  deal  of  his 
time.  He  and  Elizabeth  were  strong  Union  people,  while  Mr.  Lindsey^  ,, 
and  myself  thought  the  South  was  right,  and  were  very  sorry  to  have  him 
go  into  the  war.” 

Mrs.  Lindsey  searched  her  album  to  find  me  a photograph  of  Miss  Lay-  ' 
ton;  but  not  succeeding,  she  said  that  if  I would  go  to  Mrs.  William 
Rawlins,  a half  sister  of  Miss  Layton’s,  she  was  sure  that  I could  get  a 
photograph  of  the  latter,  and  probably  of  Andrews  also.  As  these  pic- 
tures, which  I did  not  know  to  be  in  existence,  would  be  very  valuable,  I * ' 
took  leave  with  many  thanks  and  followed  her  directions.  I found  Mrs. 
Rawlins  in  the  village  of  Helena,  two  miles  distant.  Here  I gathered  ad- 
ditional facts,  and  procured  the  lady’s  photograph,  but  learned  that  for 
the  other  I would  have  to  go  to  East  Maysville  on  the  Ohio  River.  She 
was  sure  that  her  sister  who  lived  there.  Miss  Elvira  Layton,  a full  sister 
of  Elizabeth,  had  Andrews’s  photograph.  I determined  to  go  at  once. 

Reaching  Maysville  the  same  evening,  after  a little  inquiry,  I boarded 
the  right  street  car  to  take  me  up  the  river  to  the  suburb  known  as 
Newtown  or  East  Maysville.  The  street-car  conductor  kindly  set  me  j 
off  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Williams,  with  whom  Miss  Lay- 
ton  lived.  The  latter  was  much  older  than  Elizabeth,  indeed  now  far  j 
advanced  in  life,  and  when  she  came  into  the  room  where  Mrs.  Williams 
and  some  other  members  of  the  family  were,  it  seemed  as  if  I could  not  ] 
make  her  understand  clearly  what  I wanted.  I spoke  a little  louder;  but  ] 
she  said  she  could  hear  me  well  enough.  At  length  she  said  a little  j 
abruptly,  “ I guess  you  had  better  come  upstairs  to  my  room.’^  On  doing  j 
so  I found  an  immediate  change  of  manner;  all  constraint  was  gone  in  a | 
moment.  She  brought  the  album,  saying  as  she  opened  it,  “ I could  not  ,] 
talk  about  him  before  them;  they  were  rebels.’^  Her  fingers  trembled  | 
with  eagerness  as  she  turned  the  page,  and  at  length,  holding  the  book  1 


The  South  Revisited, 


‘437 


open  before  me,  she  said,  “Do  you  know  that?’’  Lo  there — the  first 
time  I had  looked  upon  it  for  twenty -four  years — was  the  face  of  our  lost 
^ leader  ! “It  killed  my  sister,”  she  continued.  “ From  the  time  she  saw 
the  newspaper  account  of  the  execution  she  was  never  the  same.”  From 
Mrs.  Lindsey  and  Mrs.  Rawlins  I had  learned  some  of  the  particulars,  and 
now  heard  the  remainder  of  the  simple,  pitiful  story  of  Elizabeth  Layton’s 
bereaved  love,  sickness,  and  death.  At  first  when  there  were  only  scatter- 
ing newspaper  intimations  of  the  capture  and  danger  of  Andrews,  they 
had  kept  it  from  her;  but  when  a paper  was  received  with  the  full  account 

• of  the  execution,  they  allowed  her  to  see  it.  While  she  read,  her  face  be- 
came deadly  pale.  She  did  not  faint,  nor  cry  out,  nor  utter  a single  word; 
but  when-  she  had  looked  a good  while  at  the  article  she  went  to  her  own 
room  and  remained  for  hours.  After  this  they  said  she  seemed  to  have 
little  interest  in  anything,  and  that  her  mind  was  obviously  shaken.  Her 
health,  which  had  been  robust,  began  at  once  to  decline.  There  is  a little 

^ discrepancy  as  to  the  account  of  her  death,  which  I had  not  the  time  to 
clear  up;  Mrs.  Lindsey  and  Mrs.  Rawlins  said  that  she  died  the  following 
February;  but  Miss  Layton,  while  agreeing  as  to  the  month,  was  positive 
that  she  lived  a year  longer;  but  they  all  agreed  in  tracing  her  death 
directly  to  this  awful  bereavement. 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  stood  the  large  black  trunk  which  Andrews 
had  mentioned  in  his  last  letter.  “ A most  singular  bequest  from  a lover.” 
Miss  Layton  said,  “ That  was  enough  in  itself  to  kill  her.”  This  trunk 
was  procured  for  her  by  Parrot  and  Hawkins,  who  met  her  in  Louisville; 
they  had  to  bring  a good  deal  of  pressure  to  bear  on  the  hotel-keeper 
before  he  would  give  it  up.  My  own  theory  is  that  Andrews  had  intended 
to  bring  it  back  filled  with  wedding-presents. 

Leaving  Miss  Layton’s  late  in  the  evening,  I went  down  to  the  steam- 

* boat  landing — the  same  place -where  Andrews  and  myself  had  landed  before 
the  war,  on  our  intended  Southern  teaching  expedition,  at  nearly  the  same 
time,  though  without  the  slightest  knowledge  of  each  other.  I had  little 
expectation  of  finding  a steamboat  to  go  down  the  river  at  that  hour,  as  all 
the  regular  boats  had  long  since  left.  But  the  Bofiauza  happened  to 
be  at  the  wharf,  and  I was  soon  on  my  way  to  Cincinnati.  This  assured 

I m.e  of  being  able  to  reach  the  place  appointed  for  the  reunion  of  the  sur- 
vivors of  our  prison  party  at  McComb,  Hancock  Co.,  Ohio,  the  next  day. 

While  waiting  at  Deshler,  Ohio  (the  junction  with  the  branch  road 
leading  to  McComb)  I saw  a fine-looking  man  who  had  a familiar  and 
preacher-like  look,  and  who  seemed  to  be  watching  me.  I thought  he 
was  probably  one  of  the  members  of  the  East  Ohio  Conference,  of  which  I 
had  been  a member  before  being  transferred  to  the  N.  J.  Conference.  At 
^ length  he  came  up  to  me  and  said,  “Is  not  your  name  Pittenger?”  I 
assented,  and  learned  that  he  was  J.  A.  Wilson,  my  old  prison  comrade--^ 


438 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


the  first  time  I had  seen  him  since  we  had  shaken  hands,  not  without  moist 
eyes,  just  before  we  attacked  the  jailor  and  the  guard  at  Atlanta  twenty- 
four  years  earlier.  We  were  both  boys  then,  and  in  the  wonderful  rush  of  \ 
memory  and  emotion  which  swept  over  me  I began  to  realize  for  the  first 
time  all  that  this  reunion — the  first  that  our  party  had  ever  held — was 
likely  to  prove.  We  talked  rapidl}?-,  the  minutes  fled  like  magic,  and  it 
seemed  almost  too  soon  that  we  were  at  McComb.  I learned  that  Dorsey 
had  arrived  from  Nebraska,  that  Knight  also  had  come,  and  that  more 
were  expected.  This  was  the  home  of  two  others — Porter  and  Bensinger 
— and  we  were  sure  of  a great  gathering.  Though  already  late,  we  had  ^ 
very  much  to  talk  over  before  we  could  sleep. 

The  next  morning  the  lake  winds  blew  cold,  and  the  falling- snow  was 
quite  a contrast  to  the  warm  days  I had  left  behind  in  the  South.  But 
this  did  not  diminish  our  enjoyment;  perhaps,  as  the  next  day  was  Thanks- 
giving and  we  were  to  feast  together  at  the  house  of  Comrade  Porter,  the 
cold  imparted  additional  zest.  Of  the  whole  number  the  only  one  I could 
have  recognized — excepting  Dorsey,  who  had  visited  me  in  New  Jersey — 
was  Bensinger.  The  grave,  bearded  men  I saw  were  not  much  like  the 
boys  who  had  played  games  and  sung  in  sight  of  the  scaffold!  but  the 
very  first  tones  of  the  voice  of  each  one  had  a familiar  thrill  that  flashed 
like  lightning  backward  over  all  the  intervening  years.  The  citizens  of 
McComb  felt  great  interest  in  our  meeting.  The  Methodist  Church  was^ 
crowded  in  the  evening  to  hear  the  telling  of  experiences  by  the  different 

members  of  the  party.  This  entertainment  was  repeated  the  next  even- 

✓ 

ing  and  also  for  one  evening  at  Findlay,  an  admission  fee  being  charged, 
which  went  far  toward  defraying  the  whole  expenses  of  the  reunion. 

The  Thanksgiving  dinner  provided  by  the  hospitality  of  Porter  was 
excellent,  and  the  contrast  between  that,  and  our  boarding  in  Chattanooga 
and  Atlanta,  was  duly  dwelt  upon.  In  the- revival  of  old  incidents  I was* 
much  amused  in  noticing  what  all  persons  who  have  had  much  to  do  with 
sifting  testimony  have  been  forced  to  recognize — the  uncertainty,  in  minute 
points,  of  the  best  witnesses.  None  of  us  had  any  motive  to  recall  any 
other  than  the  exact  facts;  but  we  differed  in  a thousand  little  matters, 
though  none  of  the  discrepancies  were  of  practical  importance.  With  this 
narrative  in  view,  I questioned  the  others  carefully  about  those  things  4 
which  I had  not  jotted  down  at  the  time,  or  which  took  place  beyond  the 
bounds  of  my  own  experience.  Substantial  agreement,  with  numberless 
minute  divergencies,  was  the  outcome.  For  example  (and  this  was  the 
more  striking  from  its  non-essential  character)  we  began  to  talk  of  the  num- 
ber of  windows  in  the  upper  cell  of  Swims’  jail  in  Chattanooga.  ' There 
was  no  difference  as  to  the  lower  room,  for  every  detail  of  that  horrible 
place  was  burned  into  our  memories  forever.  But  some  said  there  were 
three  windows  in  the  upper  room,  and  others  that  there  were  but  two. 


440 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


After  the  dispute  had  lasted  for  some  time,  another  came  in  and  was  at 
once  appealed  to  as  a fresh  witness,  and  unhesitatingly  declared  that  there 
was  but  one.  In  the  two  matters  following  I was  forced  to  admit  myself  < 
in  error,  which  I did  the  more  readily  as  in  both  these  I had  depended  on 
other  eyes. 

The  two  engineers.  Brown  and  Knight,  and  the  fireman  Wilson  united 
in  saying  that  the  ‘^Yonah’’  engine  was  insight  when  we  passed.  A 
more  serious  difficulty  arose  in  apportioning  the  comparative  labors  of 
Brown  and  Knight.  When  the  box-car  contingent,  with  which  I was, 
broke  out  the  end  of  their  car  and  crawled  on  the  engine  and  tender,  ^ 
Brown  was  acting  as  engineer.  This  mainly  had  led  me  to  write  and  others 
to  speak  of  him  as  engineer,’*  sometimes  without  mentipn  of  Knight 
at  all.  But  it  appeared  that  while  Brown  was  examined  as  to  his  qualifi- 
cations as  engineer  by  Mitchel  himself,  and  approved;  yet  Knight  had 
been  spoken  to  by  Andrews  and  the  Colonel  of  the  Twenty-first  Ohio,  and 
was  also  well  qualified,  had  gotten  ahead  of  Brown  at  the  start  and  had  4 
taken  the  first  turn  at  the  throttle.  Knight  was  also  a mechanician,  and 
probably  better  able  than  any  man  of  the  party  to  have  repaired  damages 
to  the  engine.  These  little  discussions  did  not  impair,  but  rather  added 
spice,  to  an  occasion  which  on  the  whole  was  such  a time  of  tender,  sad, 
and  triumphant  memories  as  seldom  comes  in  this  world — perhaps  not 
altogether  unlike  some  of  the  reviews  of  earthly  experiences  that  may  be  ^ 
had  in  the  world  beyond  death  ! 

The  photographs  of  the  party  were  taken  as  a group  in  Findlay. 
Brown  was  not  then  with  us,  but  he  was  seen  afterward.  Then,  with  ten- 
der and  hearty  farewells,  we  scattered  on  our  several  ways  in  life. 

At  Steubenville,  Ohio,  I saw  my  old  Captain — now  Major — Sarratt, 
who  had  made  the  detail  of  four  men  for  the  first  expedition  and  so  ear- 
nestly opposed  my  going  on  the  second.  From  him  I obtained  the  pictures 
of  those  men,  and  many  particulars  of  this  primary  enterprise^ — a gallant 
and  daring  affair  which,  however,  would  not  have  been  heard  of,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  greater  celebrity  of  the  one  that  followed.  He  then 
accompanied  me  over  into  Virginia  to  Holliday^s  Cove,  and  helped  me 
to  hunt  down  that  gross  personation  of  Andrews,  which,  if  I had  not  thus 
learned  its  true  character,  might  have  marred  this  volume.  Nothing  more  < 
then  remained  but  to  return  home,  and  give  six  months  of  hard  labor  to 
weaving  into  the  slight  old  volume  the  abundance  of  material  accumulated 
during  this  trip,  and  the  years  that  had  passed  since  the  first  publication. 


1 Chanter  XXXVII, 


I 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

A DETAILED  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  FIRST  OR  BUELL 
» RAILROAD  RAID. 

SOON  after  the  events  narrated  in  Chapter  Second  of  this  work — at 
the  beginning  of  April,  1862 — one  of  the  men  from  Co.  C,  2nd  Ohio 
Regiment,  returned  to  Gen.  MitcheFs  camp  at  Murfreesboro.  He 
reported  having  gone  as  far  as  Chattanooga  where  he  was  recognized  by 
^ rebel  acquaintance.  For  the  sake  of  former  friendship  he  hesitated  to 
denounce  him^  but  insisted  that  he  should  at  once  return  northward,  which 
he  made  haste  to  do.  He  reported  the  others  still  pressing  southward. 

About  a week  afterward  all  returned.  First  was  my  relative  Mills; 
and  on  two  consecutive  days  the  remainder  came  also.  From  them  I 
learned  the  particulars  of  their  romantic  journey.  Of  the  four  from  Sarratt’s 
company,  one  only,  Frank  J.  Hawkins,  of  Columbus,  O.,  still  survives; 
and  he  has  kindly  furnished  me  an  account  of  their  adventures  taken  from 
letters  written  near  the  time,  which,  with  the  statements  of  Captain  Sarratt, 
and  the  account  given  by  Frank  Mills,  is  the  ground  for  the  following 
narrative.  It  throws  valuable  light  upon  the  Second  expedition. 

James  J.  Andrews  had  become  quite  well  acquainted  with  Captain 
Sarratt,  and  depended  upon  his  Company  mainly  for  the  volunteers  for  this 
•expedition.  At  first  Sarratt  regarded  • Andrews  with  some  distrust;  but 
his  plausible  representations  overcame  this  feeling,  and  inspired  such  con- 
fidence that  Sarratt,  if  not  held  to  his  place  by  the  duty  owed  his  Company, 
would  himself  have  gladly  gone  with  him.  Accordingly,  when  Andrews 
obtained  the  order  from  Buell  for  Mitchel  to  furnish  him  volunteers,  he 
told  the  latter  that  he  could  easily  find  them  in  the  2nd  Ohio.  He 
iwent  at  once  to  Sarratt’s  quarters,  who  agreed  to  furnish  half  of  the  eight 
men  needed,  and  sent  for  Hawkins,  Holliday,  Surles,  and  Durbin.  These 
were  among  his  best  men.  Andrews  told  them  that  he  wanted  eight  men 
to  go  South  with  him  as  far  as  Atlanta,  Ga.,  from  which  place  he  had  just 
returned,  and  where  he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a railroad  engineer 
who  ran  on  a wood-train,  and  who  was  also  a good  Union  man.  This 
engineer  had  agreed  to  run  off  with  his  train,  if  Andrews  would  furnish 
hands  to  act  as  brakemen,  tear  up  track,  and  burn  bridges.  When  the 
four  soldiers  had  heard  his  statement  they  all  volunteered,  and  thus  half 


442 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


the  number  was  made  up.  Captain  Mitchel’s  Company  was  next  in  the 
regimental  line,  and  was  ready  to  second  every  thing  that  Sarratt  did.  Frank 
Mills  from  that  Company  offered  his  service,  as  did  a private  named  Horr 
from  Company  A.  The  names  of  the  other  two  are  not  remembered. 

The  four  from  Sarratt’ s Company  made  up  one  band  who  travelled  by 
themselves,  and  we  will  mainly  follow  their  fortunes.  They  were  fur- 
nished with  suits  of  citizens^  clothing  in  place  of  their  uniforms,  and  forty 


Frank  B.  Mills.  B.  F.  Durbin. 

Frank  Hawkins. 

Alexander  H.  Surles.  J.  W.  Holliday. 

Members  of  the  first  expedition;  from  war-time  photographs. 

dollars  each,  in  gold.  The  same  evening  they  went  out  to  the  reserve 
picket  post,  where  they  slept  for  the  night,  and  started  into  the  enemy’s 
lines  at  four  o’clock  the  next  morning.  They  bent  their  steps  toward 
Tullahoma,  forty  miles  distant,  which  was  the  furthest  point  northward  to 
which  the  rebels  at  that  time  ran  their  trains.  After  a walk  of  seven 
miles,  they  were  ready  for  breakfast,  and  stopped  with  a strong  rebel. 
Hawkins  paid  for  the  breakfast  with  a twenty-dollar  gold  piece,  and  re- 
ceived thirty-eight  dollars  change — in  Confederate  money. 

Five  miles  further  on  they  met  three  rebel  citizens  in  a spring  wagon. 


Account  of  the  First  or  Buell  Railroad  Raid,  443 

who  inquired  where  they  were  from,  and  were  informed  that  they  came 
from  Nashville,  and  were  on  their  road  to  Atlanta  to  enlist.  The  citizens 
were  curious  to  know  how  the  four  got  through  the  Yankee  pickets,  but 
were  told  that  they  went  round  them.  They  next  stated  their  own  busi- 
ness, which  was  to  find  out  the  number  of  Yankees  in  Murfreesboro*.  In 
other  words,  they  were  spies,  and  Hawkins  and  his  friends  misled  them  as 
much  as  they  could  by  stating  that  25,000  troops  had  left  Nashville.  This 
surprised  them.  The  information  of  the  Southern  officers  in  regard  to 
our  numbers,  in  the  first  stages  of  the  war,  was  far  more  accurate  than  our 
own.  But  they  accepted  this  statement,  and  said  they  would  go  no  fur- 
ther. They  were  very  sorry  their  wagon  was  too  small  toTnvite  their  new 
acquaintances  to  a seat  on  the  way  back  to  Tullahoma.  The  four  now 
walked  on  the  railroad  for  some  fifteen  miles  further,  where  they  stopped 
for  supper  and  lodging.  The  latter  was  given  on  condition  that  they  slept 
on  the  floor,  which  they  were  tired  enough  to  do  willingly.  By  one  o’clock 
of  the  next  day  they  had  reached  Tullahoma,  the  place  from  which 
they  expected  railroad  passage.  Here  they  met  the  same  party  they 
had  seen  in  the  spring  wagon  the  day  before,  and  were  informed,  after 
friendly  greeting,  that  the  train  for  Chattanooga  would  be  made  up  in 
about  an  hour.  As  soon  as  it  was  ready,  they  bade  our  friends  good  bye, 
wished  them  a safe  journey,  and  recommended  them  to  go  into  a Ten- 
nessee regiment.  From  this  point  the  adventurers  proceeded  by  rail  to 
Chattanooga,  but  as  their  train  was  late,  they  had  to  wait  in  that  town  till 
morning.  They  spent  the  night  at  the  Crutchfield  House,  the  principal 
hotel,  and  at  seven  were  off  for  Atlanta.  At  Big  Shanty,  they  stopped  for 
supper,  and  reached  their  destination  at  nine  in  the  evening,  finding  lodg- 
ing at  the  Trout  House. 

Andrews  and  others  of  the  party  arrived  the  next  morning.  He  vis- 
ited the  four,  and  said  that  he  had  not  yet  found  his  engineer,  but  would 
go  out  and  look  for  him.  He  did  not  succeed  in  finding  him  that  after- 
noon. There  were  plenty  of  officers  of  the  Confederate  army  at  this  hotel 
— Gen.  Johnston,  among  others,  eating  at  the  same  table  with  them. 
They  did  not  go  around  the  city  much  during  the  day,  thinking  it  safer 
to  keep  close  to  their  hotel;  but  at  night  they  went  to  the  Court  House, 
and  heard  a fiery  Secession  speech  from  Robert  Toombs;  he  said, 
among  other  things,  that  the  “Yankees^’  were  a distinct  people  from  the 
Southerners — so  distinct  that  he  could  tell  one  wherever  he  saw  him. 
The  four  “ Yankees  were  looking  right  at  him,  cheering  for  the  Confed- 
eracy as  heartily  as  anybody  ! Going  back  to  their  hotel,  they  met  some 
Union  prisoners. 

On  this  same  evening  Surles  and  Durbin  had  a very  narrow  escape. 
Before  the  unexplained  absence  of  the  Union  engineer  had  deranged 
their  plans,  and  while  it  was  expected  that  the  train  would  be  captured  the 


444 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


next  day  without  fail,  these  two  went  out  by  Andrews’s  previous  direction 
to  cut  the  telegraph  wire,  that  no  word  of  their  operations  should  be  flashed 
ahead  until  they  had  time  to  take  effectual  precautions.  They  wished  to 
remove  a considerable  portion,  so  that  it  could  not  be  readily  repaired. 
They  found  a solitary  place,  and  Surles  was  up  the  pole  in  a moment  and 
with  the  tools  brought  for  the  purpose  soon  severed  a wire.  Durbin  had 
just  taken  hold  of  it  and  was  coiling  it  up  for  removal,  when  two  rebels 
belonging  to  an  irregular  cavalry  company  rode  up.  Our  men  were 
caught  in  the  very  act  ! For  a moment  they  gave  themselves  up  for  lost, 
as  they  were  not  armed,  while  their  opponents  carried  shotguns, — a very 
effective  weapon  at  short  range.  But  Surles  was  a man  of  the  greatest 
coolness  and  fertility  of  resources.  One  of  the  enemy  demanded  very 
roughly,  “What  are  you  at  up  there?”  This  gave  the  man  up  the  pole 
time  to  think,  and  he  answered  by  a burst  of  passionate  imiprecations  on 
the  Confederacy,  declaring  that  it  was  high  time  the  Yankees  came  in  and 
took  charge  of  the  whole  thing,  if  it  could  not  be  managed  better.  This 
was  so  different  from  what  the  cavalryman  expected  that  he  stopped,  low- 
ered the  gun  he  had  drawn  up  and  said,  Why  what  on  earth  is  the  mat- 
ter with  you  ? ” 

Surles  said,  If  I have  to  tend  office  all  day,  and  go  around  mending 
wires  all  night,  I donT  care  how  soon  the  whole  thing  goes  to  destruction  ! ” 

The  cavalryman,  convinced  that  he  had  to  do  only  with  an  overworked 
operator,  encouraged  him  to  bear  up  under  his  trouble,  assuring  him  that 
affairs  would  soon  be  better  ! He  then  rode  away,  and  they  “ bore  up  ” far 
enough  to  finish  “ the  repair, which  consisted  in  getting  down  a large  roll 
and  throwing  it  into  a neighboring  corn-field.  Then  they  returned  to  the 
hotel,  feeling  sure  that  if  the  train  was  captured  in  the  morning,  there  could 
be  no  prompt  notification  to  or  from  Atlanta.  The  next  morning  the  whole 
party  met  with  a terrible  and  most  unexpected  disappointment.  After 
breakfast,  Andrews  came  to  their  room  and  reported  that  he  had  at  length 
been  able  to  hear  of  his  engineer,  for  whom  he  had  been  searching  ever 
since  they  came  to  Atlanta.  But  the  news  was  no  comfort. 

Although  Andrews  had  been  very  prompt  in  his  return  to  Atlanta  after 
his  last  interview  with  this  engineer,  it  was  now  too  late.  The  man  had 
been  drafted  off  to  the  East  Tennessee  road  to  assist  in  the  work  of  trans- 
porting troops  toward  Corinth,  where  the  rebel  forces  were  concentrating 
in  anticipation  of  Pittsburg  Landing  battle.  Andrews  went  from  one  to 
another  to  see  if  any  of  them,  by  a happy  chance,  was  able  to  run  an  en- 
gine. Not  one  of  them  had  the  experience  even  of  a fireman.  Andrews 
himself  knew  nothing  of  a train  except  what  he  had  learned  by  casual  ob- 
servation. It  would  be  far  too  great  a risk  to  attempt  t*o  force  an  unwill- 
ing engineer  to  do  their  work,  for  he  would  have  it  in  his  power,  in  spite  of 
all  their  precautions,  to  ruin  them.  It  was  to  Andrews  a most  bitter  dis- 


Account  of  the  First  or  Buell  Railroad  Raid,  445 

appointment.  If  the  men  had  been  with  him  on  his  former  trip  ail  would 
have  been  well;  now  they  were  here,  through^  great  perils — as  good  and 
true  men  as  a leader  could  have — and  they  were  powerless  ! But  Andrews 
wasted  no  time  in  vain  regrets;  he  told  them  that  the  fault  was  his  own  in 
not  having  taken  an  engineer  along;  but  that  now  the  only  thing  they 
could  do  was  to  start  back,  in  small  parties,  and  try  to  return  to  the  Union 
lines.  Part  began  the  difficult  journey  the  same  day;  but  the  four  lin- 
gered till  the  next  morning. 

When  they  left  Atlanta  it  was  on  a mixed  freight  and  passenger  train, 
which  stopped  for  an  hour  at  Big  Shanty — a place  afterward  to  become 
historical.  It  was  then  a Confederate  camp  of  instruction.  Having  some 
time  to  spare,  our  soldiers  went  over  to  look  with  a veteran’s  interest 
upon  the  evolutions  of  the  raw  recruits.  These  were  supplied  only  with 
pikes  about  four  feet  long,  for  arms  were  very  scarce  in  the  South  at  that 
period;  and  after  witnessing  their  performances  for  an  hour,  they  con- 
tinued their  own  journey.  Durbin  and  Surles  went  into  the  forward  end 
of  the  train  while  the  others  took  seats  in  the  rear  car.  Andrews  was  with 
them.  A brakeman  came  into  the  car  saying,  in  an  excited  tone,  “ We’ve 
got  some  Yankees  out  here. Their  natural  presumption  was  that  their 
comrades  had  been  arrested,  and  they  felt  a strong  desire  to  be  elsewhere  ! 
Hawkins  and  Holliday  stepped  out  to  investigate,  and  found  that  the  pris- 
oners were  a number  of  Union  soldiers  on  another  train  they  had  just 
met;  and  as  the  misfortune  of  these  was  not  personal  to  our  adventurers, 
they  returned  to  the  car  feeling  much  better.  As  they  looked  around, 
they  could  see  nothing  of  their  leader.  But  a man  was  there,  w^th  his 
face  toward  the  window,  whom  they  had  not  seen  before.  When  he 
turned  and  asked  them  what  prisoners  it  was  they  were  talking  about  out- 
side, they  started,  for  it  was  Andrews  ! He  had  simply  changed  a hat  for 
a cap  which  he  carried,  and  thrown  his  hair  in  another  way,  so  that  it  would 
have  required  a very  close  observer,  indeed,  to  identify  him. 

In  the  evening  the  train  arrived  at  Chattanooga,  where  the  four  sepa- 
rated for  their  still  more  perilous  attempt  to  cross  the  mountains  back  to 
the  Union  army.  Two  of  them  took  the  route  toward  Tracy  City  and 
Manchester.  Holliday  and  Hawkins  went  by  the  train  as  far  as  Steven- 
son, to  which  point  the  road  had  been  shortened  since  they  had  last 
passed  over  it.  From  this  place  they  started  on  foot,  and  getting  their 
supper  on  the  way,  they  pressed  on  for  about  sixteen  miles,  where,  seeing 
some  smouldering  logs  over  in  a field,  they  crossed  the  fence,  and  raking 
them  together,  slept  by  the  hot  embers  through  the  niglit.  They  took 
breakfast  with  a rebel  family,  and  then  pressed  on  till  just  beyond  the 
large  tunnel  at  Cowan  station.  Here  they  found  a rebel  soldier,  and  on 
asking  him  for  directions  to  Manchester,  he  offered  to  accompany  them  part 
of  the  way,  and  then  to  put  them  on  the  right  track.  They  ascended  the 


446  Daring  and  Suffering, 

f 

mountain,  passed  the  military  school  at  Sewanee,  and  lodged  for  the  night 
in  a secluded  cove.  He  left  them  there,  but  told  them  where  to  strike 
the  Manchester  road.  The  man  with  whom  they  lodged  that  night  was  a 
strong  friend  to  the  Union  cause,  who  urgently  advised  them  not  to  return  to 
the  South  any  more.  He  gave  them  breakfast,  dinner  to  carry  with  them, 
and  as  much  tobacco  as  they  could  take.  The  next  day  they  made  a good 
lourney,  and  that  night  slept  on  the  floor  by  the  fire  of  a negro  cabin. 

Four  miles  from  Manchester  the  following  day  they  met  a rebel  citizen 
on  the  road,  who  told  them  that  they  had  better  go  no  further,  as  a Yan- 
kee “ critter  company  had  just  come  into  the  town  that  afternoon.  They 
asked  if  there  was  a road  by  which  they  could  go  round  the  town  so  the)^' 
would  not  be  seen.  He  said  there  was  none,  but  they  could  go  through 
the  fields  “by  looking  sharp  that  they  might  not  get  picked  up.''  After 
getting  out  of  his  sight  they  made  rapid  time  with  beating  hearts,  and 
found  to  their  unutterable  disappointment  that  the  Federals  had  gone  but 
a short  time  before  ! Scarcely  any  body  was  left  in  the  town.  They  did 
not  care  to  stop  there,  though  very  tired.  For  ten  miles  further  they 
journeyed,  and  after  getting  supper  at  a farm  house,  slept  on  the  hay  in 
an  old  barn.  Without  breakfast  they  started  very  early,  hoping  that  day 
to  be  back  in  their  own  tents.  A horseman  whom  they  asked  for  a road 
that  would  lead  them  around  Murfreesboro’,  where  General  Mitchel  still 
lay,  gave  them  the  directions  needed,  and  they  travelled  some  eighteen 
miles  more,  when,  being  very  weary,  they  stopped  for  the  night  with  a bit- 
ter rebel.  He  informed  them  that  it  was  only  about  twelve  miles  more  to 
the  Union  lines. 

The  next  day  no  hindrance  was  encountered.  About  four  miles  from 
our  pickets  they  met  a man  on  horseback,  and  told  him  that  they  were 
going  to  Nashville  and  wanted  to  get  around  the  Yankees.  He  laughed 
at  them,  saying  that  they  might  be  like  a party  that  went  through  the 
pickets  the  preceding  day.  They  also  wanted  to  shp  by  toward  Nashville, 
but  when  they  reached  the  pickets  they  had  a great  time  shaking  hands  ! 
Our  comrades  would  not  own  the  implication,  but  were  very  glad  to  hear 
that  some  of  their  band  had  reached  the  camp  already.  At  six  o’clock  in 
the  evening  they  found  the  Union  pickets.  Here  they  were  promptly 
arrested,  put  under  close  guard,  and  conducted  to  General  Turchin’s 
quarters.  He  recognized  them  at  once,  treated  them  royally,  and  sent 
them  with  his  best  wishes  to  their  regiments,  where  they  were  very  warmly 
welcomed. 

The  above  account  shows  how  easy  it  was  to  penetrate  in  disguise 
either  into  or  out  of  the  South  before  the  shock  of  the  greater  raid  had 
filled  the  Confederate  mind  with  distrust  of  all  travelers,  and  led  to  the 
establishment  of  a most  exacting  and  vexatious  passport  system. 


I 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

t 

A FEW  words  of  the  writer’s  previous  history  may  not  be  uninter- 
esting : 

I was  born  January  31,  1840,  in  the  northern  part  of  Jefferson 
Co.,  Ohio.  My  father,  Thomas  Pittenger,  rented  a small  farm  from  my 
mother’s  family,  the  Mills,  on  the  southern  skirt  of  the  small  village  of 
Knoxville,  and  afterward  purchased  a larger  tract  of  land  two  miles 
* north  of  the  same  town  (still  possessed  by  the  family)  to  which  he  re- 
moved when  I was  twelve  years  of  age. 

I was  the  oldest  of  seven  children,  and  while  we  all  worked  hard  as 
soon  as  we  were  able,  and  economized  closely  with  the  purpose,  on 
father’s  part,  of  completing  the  payment  for  his  land,  we  never  felt  real 
poverty.  As  a child,  I was  strong,  healthful,  and  fond  of  all  rough  and 
* boisterous  games,  but  was  so  near-sighted  that  my  parents  were  advised 
not  to  send  me  to  school  for  fear  of  ruining  the  little  vision  I had. 
When  I began  to  read — for  mother  was  wiser  than  her  advisers — J could 
only  see  the  letters  at  a distance  of  three  inches,  and  the  concave  glasses 
which  I long  afterward  procured  for  supplying  the  defect  were  of  only 
two  inches  negative  focus.  I learned  easily  all  that  was  taught  in  the 
• village  common  school.  Fortunately  blackboard  instruction  was  not 
then  in  vogue.  I never  attempted  to  recognize  persons  by  their  faces, 
but  depended  on  their  voices  alone.  I read  all  the  books  that  could  be 
borrowed  for  miles  around,  and  in  this  way  managed  to  secure  consider- 
able general  information. 

When  twelve,  father  moved  to  his  farm,  and  struggled  for  ten  years 
I to  clear  it  of  incumbrance.  My  annual  schooling  was  reduced  to  the 
three  winter  months.  In  four  years  more  it  ceased  altogether.  I was 
then  dreamy  and  visionary,  reading  history  with  delight,  and  hoping, 
like  most  boys,  to  share  in  great  adventures.  The  work  of  education 
went  on  about  as  fast  after  school-days  as  before.  The  mysteries  of 
shorthand  were  mastered  during  the  noon  spells  and  rainy  days  of  a busy 
harvest,  and  astronomy  was  studied  with  especial  devotion.  The  con- 
stellations were  learned,  though  I could  not,  when  I first  began,  see  a 
star  of  less  than  the  third  magnitude.  When  glasses  were  procured,  I 


448 


Daring  aiid  Suffering, 


reveled  in  the  new  beauty  of  the  sky,  though  it  required  a tedious  edu- 
cation of  several  months  before  I could  read  with  the  new  aids  to  vision. 
No  words  can  describe  the  glory  of  the  heavens  that  burst  on  my  view 
with  all  the  charm  of  novelty.  I soon  longed  for  the  means  to  see  still 
more  of  the  wonders  of  the  stars.  Having  no  money,  and  telescopes 
being  costly,  it  was  necessary  to  secure  additional  means,  for  my  father 
could  spare  nothing  from  the  heavy  annual  payments  on  his  land  to 
gratify  what  he  considered  a whim.  The  readiest  way  of  earning  a little 
money  was  by  teaching  a district  school;  but  the  first  effort  in  this 
direction  met  with  a decided  repulse.  The  board  of  examiners  of 
Jefferson  County  declared  that  while  not  disqualified  from  a literary 
standpoint,  I was  too  near-sighted  to  control  a band  of  unruly  children. 
They  were  more  than  half  right.  I was  not  then  sixteen.  A few  months 
later  I made  another  attempt,  and  as  I had  then  become  more  accustomed 
to  my  glasses,  v/hich  had  been  purchased  just  before  the  first  examina- 
tion, the  certificate  was  granted.  As  a teacher  I found  the  teaching 
easy;  but  the  m.aintaining  of  quiet  and  order  among  sixty  or  eighty 
young  people  of  all  ages  from  twenty-one  down  to  four  or  five,  and  of 
all  degrees  of  culture,  was  no  light  task.  I never  liked  the  profession 
as  it  was  practised  in  the  large  county  districts  of  Ohio,  and  though  I 
improved  with  each  winter’s  teaching,  yet  the  beginnings  were  unprom- 
ising, and  the  work  always  distasteful. 

But  the  first  money  obtained  after  paying  for  clothing  was  devoted 
to  securing  a telescope.  I could  not  afford  to  purchase  a large  one,  and, 
not  satisfied  with  a small  one,  I bought  the  mirror  and  eye-piece  for  a 
ten-feet  reflector  from  Amasa  Holcomb  of  Mass.,  and  made  all  the  rest 
of  the  instrument.  Everything  was  rough  but  efficient.  The  telescope 
was  constructed  without  a tube,  in  a method  devised  by  Dr.  Thomas 
Dick,  of  Scotland.  It  possessed  great  power,  and  showed  clearly  all 
objects  commonly  described  in  astronomical  works.  A post,  planted  in 
the  ground,  on  the  top  of  which  the  telescope  was  pivoted,  and  a step- 
ladder,  constituted  the  observatory.  Here  on  a level  spot  above  the 
farm-house,  many  happy  nights  were  spent,  and  the  neighbors  not  un- 
frequently  joined  in  gazing  on  the  wonders  of  the  sky.  Probably  nothing 
but  the  fact  that  while  I could  see  nearly  all  that  the  books  described, 
I required  twice  as  much  instrumental  power  for  that  purpose  as  my 
visitors,  prevented  me  from  becoming  a professional  astronomer.  When 
the  war  broke  out  the  instrument  was  sold,  and  the  pursuit  of  astronomy 
suspended. 

At  eighteen,  I left  my  native  county  and  taught  a select  school  of 
higher  grade  near  Ravenna,  Ohio.  This  was  decidedly  more  pleasing 
than  teaching  miscellaneous  pr-v',.  c:chools,  and  indicated  that  the  work 


A utobiography , 


449 


of  education  might  be  made  enjoyable.  But  I was  invited  by  Alexander 
Clark,  another  Jefferson  County  teacher,  to  join  him  in  editing  and  pub- 
lishing the  School-day  Visitor,  in  Cleveland,  Ohio.  This  periodical 
grew  rapidly  in  circulation,  but  there  were  many  severe  financial  strug- 
gles before  it  was  fairly  successful.  It  was  absorbed  long  after  in 
Scribner’s  St.  Nicholas. 

The  next  year,  being  nineteen,  I visited  a relative  in  Illinois.  My 
first  intention  was  to  seek  a school  in  the  interior  of  Kentucky,  and  with 
• that  end  in  view,  I landed  at  Maysville.  The  darkness  of  the  night,  the 
rain,  and  the  slenderness  of  my  purse,  but  most  of  all,  the  intense  pro- 
slavery sentiment  of  the  country,  made  the  stage  journey  from  that 
point  look  very  forbidding;  and  I decided  to  continue  down  the  river. 
I have  since  learned  that  J.  J.  Andrews,  the  hero  of  this  story,  landed 
at  the  same  place,  near  the  same  time,  and  with  the  same  purpose — that 
I of  teaching.  But  he  went  one  stage  further,  that  is,  to  Flemingsburg, 
the  next  county  seat,  while  I returned  to  the  river  highway.  The  circle 
of  our  lives  approached,  but  did  not  actually  meet  until  three  years 
after,  amid  daring  enterprises  and  tragic  sufferings. 

The  journey  from  Maysville  was  made  cheaply  on  the  deck  of  a 
steamboat.  While  on  the  way  we  landed  at  Louisville,  and,  strolling  up 
^ the  street  for  an  hour’s  recreation,  I saw  at  a distance  a large  child 
beating  another  child  much  smaller  over  the  shoulders  with  a heavy 
club.  The  little  one  was  crying  pitifully,  and  trying  to  shield  its  head 
with  its  hands,  but  the  blows,  which  I could  hear  as  well  as  sfee,  con- 
tinued to  fall  with  angry  persistence.  I was  surprised  and  shocked  that 
no  one  of  the  passers-by  seemed  to  pay  the  smallest  attention.  When  I 
came  still  closer  the  myatery  was  solved.  The  large  child  was  white, 
the  small  one  black ! I was  in  a slave  state!  I afterward  witnessed 
many  terrible  features  of  the  institution  which  the  great  civil  war  happily 
buried  forever,  but  few  that  impressed  me  more  deeply. 

I taught  a successful  school  in  Southern  Illinois,  and  during  the 
winter  indulged  freely  in  the  common  pastime  of  debating.  Political 
subjects  were  often  introduced  and  discussed  with  no  small  degree  of 
' heat,  for  the  raid  of  John  Brown  at  Harper’s  Ferry  had  wrought  popular 
passion  almost  to  boiling  heat.  The  question  debated  was  always  some 
phase  of  the  slavery  controversy,  and  I soon  became  known  as  an 
abolitionist” — far  from  a complimentary  title  in  those  days.  Many 
. Southerners  were  in  that  part  of  the  State,  and  I had  an  opportunity  to 
learn  their  real  sentiments,  becoming  convinced  that  there  was  great 
danger  of  war. 

In  the  spring  I returned  to  Ohio,  and  made  some  essays  toward  the 
business  of  photography.  But  I lacked  capital,  and  resolved  to  teach 


450 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


till  the  lack  was  supplied.  My  parents  were  very  kind  in  giving  per- 
mission to  push  my  fortunes  in  any  way  that  I preferred,  though  I was 
not  yet  of  age.  They  always  gave  me  a hearty  welcome,  and  plenty  of 
work  when  I returned  to  the  farm.  In  September,  i860 — I was  then 
twenty  years  old — I took  a long  and  delightful  tour  of  three  weeks  on 
foot  through  Northern  Ohio  and  Western  Pennsylvania,  engaging  a 
school  for  the  winter  in  Beaver  County,  of  the  latter  State.  The 
teacher’s  desk  was  more  agreeable  than  formerly,  but  the  whole  country 
was  rocking  in  the  waves  of  the  agitation  preceding  the  war.  I did  not 
vote  for  Lincoln  for  President  only  because  I lacked  a few  months  of 
twenty-one;  but  I exerted  all  my  influence  in  that  direction;  and  when 
predictions  of  war  were  made  if  he  should  be  elected,  I did  not  deny  the 
probability,  but  maintained  that  the  war  would  be  short,  leading  directly 
to  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  professed  a willingness  to  enlist  for  the 
purpose  of  putting  down  that  institution  with  the  rebellion.  During  the 
winter,  while  one  after  another  of  the  Southern  States  were  seceding,  the 
excitement  grew  more  intense,  yet  many  persons  at  the  North  refused  to 
believe  in  the  possibility  of  war;  and  when  I wrote  home  giving  my 
reasons  for  not  sharing  in  the  hopes  of  a peaceful  settlement,  and  stating 
that  in  the  event  of  war,  I had  made  up  my  mind  to  become  a soldier, 
father  gave  his  consent  very  readily;  his  reasons,  as  he  afterward  ex- 
plained, being  that  he  did  not  believe  there  would  be  any  war,  and  that 
if  there  was  he  felt  sure  that  I would  not,  because  of  bad  sight,  be  ac- 
cepted as  a soldier. 

Yet  to  me,  as  to  nearly  all  others,  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter 
and  the  President’s  call  for  troops  that  immediately  followed,  came  as 
harshly  as  the  jar  of  an  earthquake.  At  the  close  of  the  school  term,  I 
returned  to  Jefferson  county  and  purchased  a photographic  establishment 
from  Charles  Williams,  but  had  not  yet  taken  possession  of  it.  For 
nearly  a year  I had  been  reading  law  in  my  leisure  moments  under  the 
direction  of  Miller  and  Sherrard,  of  Steubenville.  My  first  step,  when 
the  explosion  occurred,  was  to  go  to  these  gentlemen  and  to  Mr.  Williams, 
and  ask  release  from  the  engagements  I had  made.  As  the  whole  country 
was  boiling  with  excitement,  they  readily  cancelled  our  contracts,  and 
I was  free  to  enter  upon  another  contract  of  a still  more  serious  nature. 

That  very  evening,  a war  mass  meeting  was  held  in  the  court-house 
at  Steubenville  and  I attended,  not  feeling  by  any  means  sure  that  I 
would  enlist  with  a company  from  the  city,  preferring  to  wait  until  one 
should  be  organized  from  my  own  end  of  the  county,  which  might  con- 
tain some  acquaintances.  But  only  seventy-five  thousand  troops  were 
called  for,  and  this  made  the  proportion  from  our  county  very  small. 
Possibly  no  more  than  one  company  might  be  needed,  and  at  any  rate  it 


A utobiography. 


451 


seemed  desirable  to  be  among  the  first  to  rally  in  support  of  the  Govern- 
ment, especially  as  the  need  for  some  troops  to  protect  Washington  was 
urgent.  I listened  to  the  speaking,  saw  man  after  man  go  foward  and 
put  his  name  down,  and  heard  the  cheers  that  greeted  each  recruit.  I 
was  more  and  more  inclined  to  go.  The  term  was  only  three  months, 
and  I could  easily  endure  that  period  among  strangers;  and  then,  if  the 
war  continued,  I could  re-enlist,  choosing  my  company.  But  I did  not 
want  to  decide  finally  under  the  excitement  of  a public  meeting;  so  I 
took  a long  walk  alone,  going  beyond  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and 
reasoning  with  myself.  I thought  of  all  the  possibilities  of  war,  the  hard 
marching,  the  facing  the  foe,  being  shot  at,  perhaps  wounded  or  killed. 
But  worst  of  all  seemed  a bayonet  charge;  and  I remember  pausing  as 
the  thought  came  like  a cold  chill  to  me,  “ Suppose  the  enemy  was  just 
ahead,  and  the  command  given,  ‘Charge  bayonets,’ — could  I obey?” 
Having  a strong  imagination,  and  being  aided  by  the  darkness  and 
* silence,  the  whole  scene  rose  before  me — the  waiting  enemy,  and  the 
awful  moment  when  steel  touches  steel!  Never  in  actual  conflict,  or  in 
worse  dangers  inside  the  enemy’s  line,  have  I felt  more  of  dread  and 
horror  than  at  that  moment, — for  there  was  none  of  the  supporting  ex- 
citement that  nearly  always  accompanies  real  danger.  But  I was  able 
to  assure  myself  that  if  duty  called  I would  obey  the  order,  though  death 
followed.  Then  I went  back  to  the  court-room,  where  the  crowd  and 
excitement  were  greater  than  ever,  and  went  forward  asking  the  privilege 
of  saying  a few  words.  The  address  expressed  gratification  tl^at  the 
long  suspense  of  the  winter,  when  traitors  were  destroying  the  Govern- 
ment, and  no  hand  was  raised  for  its  defense,  was  now  over;  and  that 
at  last  the  controversy  between  those  who  loved  the  old  flag  and  those 
who  would  rend  it  was  transferred  to  the  battle-field.  The  conclusion, 
in  which  the  speaker  added  his  own  name  to  the  list  of  recruits,  was 
especially  applauded. 

The  company  formed  that  night  was  one  of  twenty  that  were  for- 
warded to  Washington,  stopping  at  Harrisburg  on  the  way,  where  we 
were  organized  into  the  ist  and  2nd  Ohio  Regiments.  We  took  our 
first  and  not  very  difficult  lesson  in  the  hardships  of  a soldier’s  life  by 
sleeping  on  the  marble  floors  of  the  Pennsylvania  State  House.  Anson 
G.  McCook  was  elected  Captain,  for  the  first  volunteers  elected  nearly 
all  their  officers,  and  we  proceeded  on  our  way.  At  every  railroad 
station  along  the  route  we  were  greeted  by  enthusiastic  crowds,  cheering, 
bringing  coffee  and  other  refreshments,  the  ladies  waving  their  handker- 
chiefs and  showering  flowers  upon  us.  We  could  hardly  fail  to  feel  that 
our  cause  was  a noble  one,  and  that  we  had  the  hearty  support  of  the 
whole  people.  We  had  made  no  inquiries  as  to  the  wages  we  were  to 


452 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


receive,  and  when,  some  weeks  after,  the  question  was  one  day  raised 
in  our  mess,  no  one  was  able  to  answer  it.  We  would  have  enlisted  for 
the  war  as  readily  as  for  three  months — at  least  the  great  majority  of  us. 
On  the  day  of  starting,  a young  man  who  came  after  the  full  number  of 
loi  was  enrolled,  actually  gave  his  gold  watch  to  a fortunate  volunteer  for 
his  place!  My  own  fear  was  that  I might  be  rejected  on  the  surgical 
examina-tion ; but  there  was  none  worthy  of  the  name.  When  we  were 
mustered  into  service,  the  surgeon  simply  came  into  the  room  and 
looked  around  for  a few  moments,  examined  hastily  any  case  that  was 
reported  to  him  by  the  officers,  and  all  others  were  passed.  I put  my 
spectacles,  which  I always  wore,  in  my  pocket,  and  as  there  was  no 
officer  who  did  not  wish  me  to  go,  I was  not  challenged.  Before  the 
close  of  the  war,  when  men  were  seeking  exemption  by  every  possible 
means,  examinations  became  very  different! 

In  Baltimore  we  passed  through  rough  and  scowling  crowds;  but  as 
our  guns  had  been  received  and  were  loaded,  we  were  not  molested. 

When  we  arrived  in  Washington,  daily  drill,  tent  life,  guard  and 
picket  duty,  began,  and  as  we  were  soon  organized  into  Brigades  and 
Divisions,  we  began  to  feel  something  like  soldiers.  Reviews  were 
frequent;  and  on  one  occasion  President  Lincoln  passed  along  the  line. 
The  m.emory  of  the  tall,  awkward,  but  noble  man,  who  could  not  keep 
step  with  the  apparently  little  men  who  bobbed  along  on  each  side  of 
him,  is  a vivid  and  pleasing  memory.  At  length  we  entered  Virginia, 
crossing  Long  Bridge  by  night.  The  hour  was  very  impressive  when 
the  long  column  thus  Crept  silently  into  a hostile  State.  It  is  not  need- 
ful to  linger  upon  the  details  of  the  march  that  followed,  further  than  to 
say  that  the  wide  condemnation  of  the  “ On  to  Richmond  ” policy  made 
after  the  event,  was  probably  not  so  wise  as  is  generally  assumed. 
Aggressive  action  cost  the  country  far  less  during  the  war  than  un- 
reasonable delay.  The  exact  time  selected  for  the  advance  was  unfor- 
tunate, for  the  term  of  enlistment  of  a great  part  of  the  three  months' 
men  had  nearly  expired;  and  while  they  would  at  first  have  enlisted  for 
the  war  without  the  least  question,  and  the  great  majority  did  re-enlist 
for  three  years  afterward,  yet  the  American  love  of  fairness  rebelled 
against  being  kept  some  days  longer  than  the  contract  called  for.  This, 
and  not  the  panic  of  which  so  much  has  been  made,  was  the  real  reason 
for  the  rapid  disintegration  of  the  Union  army  after  the  battle  of  Bull 
Run.  Though  our  army  was  not  perfect  in  discipline,  and  had  not  yet 
fully  imbibed  the  military  spirit,  it  was  now  equal  to  the  enemy  in  these 
things,  and,  as  Grant  declared,  could  acquire  them  in  the  field  more 
rapidly  than  in  the  camp. 

On  the  morning  of  July  21st  we  were  roused  at  2 o'clock,  and  made 
a long  and  tedious  march  upon  the  right  wing  of  the  enemy,  all  the  time 


A iitobiography. 


453 


fearing  that  he  might  retreat  without  fighting,  as  at  Fairfax,  a few  days 
before.  At  length,  while -v/e  were  halted  on  the  side  of  a wooded  hill, 
the  report  of  a single  cannon  was  heard.  The  signal  gun  for  battle  has 
a solemn  sound,  and  we  soon  learned  its  meaning.  I have  no  wish  to 
repeat  the  story  of  the  day,  to  tell  how  the  incipient  Union  victory  was 
turned  into  defeat  by  the  arrival  of  a Confederate  brigade  from  Johnson’s 
army  which  had  eluded  Gen.  Patterson,  or  to  conjecture  what  might 
have  been  the  consequences  if  the  whole  of  the  forces  on  Centerville 
Hill  had  been  promptly  brought  into  action.  It  was  a defeat  which 
came  very  near  victory,  and  which  had  few  evil  consequences  in  the 
North  save  the  seeming  support  it  gave  to  those  who  advocated  the 
policy  of  delay.  The  panic  which  closed  the  day  was  far  more  intense 
among  the  teamsters,  sutlers  and  newspaper  correspondents  than  the 
troops;  and  the  dispersion  of  a large  part  of  the  army  which  had  not 
,been  seriouslv  engaged  arose  from  the  fear  of  officers  and  men  that  if 
they  maintained  a compact  organization  they  would  be  held  for  the  de- 
fense of  Washington  beyond  their  terms  of  enlistment,  and  thus  miss  the 
chances  of  promotion  which  they  counted  on  in  new  organizations. 
This  was  not  the  noblest  principle,  but  it  did  actuate  many  of  the  three 
months’  men.  The  2nd  Ohio  was  no  worse  than  others.  It  had  seen  no 
severe  fighting,  and  was  in  fine  order  when  the  battle  was  entirely  over. 
Save  for  the  feeling  that  it  had  already  served  beyond  its  time,  it  would 
have  gone  back  to  Washington  intact.  But  this  consideration  removed 
all  restraint,  and  during  the  night  the  men  straggled  at  their  wilj,  and 
when  morning  came  the  regiment  had  melted  away.  This  was  not 
creditable  but  it  was  natural,  and  is  a type  of  what  took  place  throughout 
a large  portion  of  the  army. 

It  is  more  pleasant  to  mention  other  things.  When  the  day  turned 
against  us  the  writer  decided  to  re-enlist.  It  would  never  do  to  quit  de- 
feated; and  besides,  it  was  now  sure  that  the  country  would  need  every 
man.  Many  others  expressed  the  same  feeling,  and  nearly  every  man 
of  the  three  months’  volunteers,  who  were  so  determined  to  be  let  off 
on  the  exact  day,  were  soon  back  under  the  flag  again  for  three  years. 

When  the  2nd  Ohio  re-enlisted,  I became  a member  of  Company  G, 
Captain  Sarratt.  We  were  first  ordered  to  Camp  Dennison,  and  from 
that  into  Kentucky  by  the  way  of  Cincinnati,  and  from  that  time  our 
service  was  with  the  Western  army.  After  camping  for  a time  near 
Covington,  we  proceeded  by  rail  to  Paris,  and  thence  on  foot  into 
Eastern  Kentucky — a wild  mountainous  region  where  the  bad  roads  and 
frequent  bridgeless  streams  were  the  principal  obstacles  encountered. 
By  a night  march  of  thirty-seven  miles  we  surprised  and  easily  captured 
the  village  of  West  Liberty.  At  Prestonburg,  we  met  the  33d  and  59th 
Ohio,  which  had  passed  through  Maysville  and  Flemingsburg.  Here  I 


454 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


first  met  J.  J.  Andrews.  He  was  standing  near  the  public  square  with 
a beautiful  little  repeating  rifle — Winchester,  I think — on  his  arm,  which 
the  soldiers  were  examining  with  much  interest.  He  had  a far-away 
look,  and  took  little  interest  in  the  questions  he  answered  about  the  gun. 
Some  of  us,  noticing  his  striking  appearance  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  watched  the  marching  regiments,  were  disposed  to  think  that  he  was 
probably  a spy  of  the  enemy.  We  little  dreamed  how  closely  his  name 
would  be  associated  with  that  of  our  regiment! 

Under  the  command  of  General  Nelson,  the  three  Ohio  and  one  Ken- 
tucky regiment  marched  up  the  Big  Sandy  until  we  reached  Ivy  Moun- 
tain, where  we  suddenly  found  ourselves  in  an  ambuscade  which  had 
considerable  resemblance  to  that  into  which  Gen.  Braddock  fell  before 
the  revolutionary  war.  But  we  were  not  British  regulars!  The  2nd  was 
in  advance  when  there  was  heard  the  sharp  ring  of  rifles  from  the  steep 
and  almost  inaccessible  mountain  side.  To  retreat  would  have  been  to 
lose  half  our  men;  to  stand  still  in  ranks  in  the  road  would  be  worse. 
Somebody,  whether  officer  or  not,  gave  the  word,  “ Climb  the  hills  after 
them.”  It  was  a terrible  scramble,  but  far  more  dangerous  in  appear- 
ance than  in  reality.  To  climb  a steep  hill  in  the  face  of  an  enemy  is 
less  perilous  than  to  charge  up  a moderate  and  uniform  slope,  for  the 
head  is  brought  close  to  the  ground  in  climbing,  and  the  enemy  nearly 
always  overshoots.  So  we  lost  scarcely  a man  after  we  left  the  road, 
and  had  soon  dispersed  the  enemy.  It  was  only  a little  skirmish,  but  it 
was  more  satisfactory  than  Bull  Run! 

We  advanced  but  a short  distance  beyond  Piketon  when  we  were  re- 
called for  the  grand  movement  through  Central  Kentucky.  As  there 
was  no  foe  near  us  we  took  the  easiest  means  in  our  power  of  getting 
down  the  river.  Many  without  orders  constructed  small  rafts  and  floated 
nearly  to  the  Ohio.  This  was  the  very  romance  of  soldiering,  though 
the  cold  nights  and  the  frequent  rains*  made  the  small  uncovered  raft 
the  reverse  of  comfortable.  Steamboats  were  in  waiting'for  us  at  Louisa, 
and  we  were  conveyed  down  the  Ohio  to  Louisville.  Here  we  became 
a part  of  the  vast  army  that  was  assembling  under  General  Buell,  and 
endured  the  hardships  of  fall  and  winter  camp  life.  Under  the  severe 
but  intelligent  discipline  of  Gen.  O.  M.  Mitchel  we  rapidly  became 
soldiers.  There  was  no  reason  for  such  long  delay  save  what  was  to  be 
found  in  the  character  of  our  commander-in-chief.  Mitchel  would  have 
willingly  marched  forward  against  the  slender  force  of  the  enemy  with 
his  division  alone,  but  was  held  resolutely  back  by  the  superior  authority 
of  Buell.  At  length.  Grant  at  Donelson  broke  through  the  spell  of 
inertia,  and  we  moved  almost  without  opposition  through  Kentucky, 
soon  reaching  and  capturing  Nashville.  From  this  point  the  story  has 
already  been  told. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


EDITORIAL  ACCOUNT  FROM  THE  SOUTHERN  CONFED- 
ERACY. 

» 

Atlanta^  Ga,^  April  i^th^  1862. 

THE  GREAT  RAILROAD  CHASE THE  MOST  EXTRAORDINARY  AND  AS- 
TOUNDING ADVENTURE  OF  THE  WAR THE  MOST  DARING  UNDERTAK- 

ING THAT  YANKEES  EVER  PLANNED  OR  ATTEMPTED  TO  EXECUTE — 

STEALING  AN  ENGINE TEARING  UP  THE  TRACK PURSUED  ON  FOOT, 

I ON  HAND-CARS  AND  ENGINES OVERTAKEN A SCATTERING THE 

CAPTURE THE  WONDERFUL  ENERGY  OF  MESSRS.  FULLER,  MURPHY 

AND  CAIN SOME  REFLECTIONS,  ETC.,  ETC. 

SINCE  our  last  issue  we  have  obtained  full  particulars  of  the  most 
thrilling  railroad  adventure  that  ever  occurred  on  the  American 
Continent,  as  well  as  the  mightiest  and  most  important  in  its  re- 
^ suits,  if  successful,  that  has  been  conceived  by  the  Lincoln  Government 
since  the  commencement  of  this  war.  Nothing  on  so  grand  a scale  has 
been  attempted,  and  nothing  within  the  range  of  possibility  could  be 
conceived  that  would  fall  with  such  a tremendous  crushing  force  upon 
us,  as  the  accomplishment  of  the  plans  which  were  concocted  and  de- 
pendent on  the  execution  of  the  one  whose  history  we  now  proceed  to 
® narrate. 

Its  reality — what  was  actually  done — excels  all  the  extravagant  con- 
ceptions of  the  Arrow-Smith  hoax,  which  fiction  created  such  a profound 
sensation  in  Europe. 

To  make  the  matter  more  complete  and  intelligible,  we  will  take  our 
readers  over  the  same  history  of  the  case  which  we  related  in  our  last, 
^ the  main  features  of  which  are  correct,  but  are  lacking  in  details,  which 
have  since  come  to  hand. 

We  will  begin  at  the  breakfast  table  of  the  Big  Shanty  Hotel,  at 
Camp  McDonald,  on  the  W.  & A.  R.  R. , where  several  regiments  of 
soldiers  are  now  encamped.  The  morning  mail  and  passenger  train  had 
left  here  at  4 a.  m.  on  last  Saturday  morning  as  usual,  and  had  stopped 
there  for  breakfast.  The  conductor,  William  A.  Fuller,  the  engineer, 
I.  Cain — both  of  this  city — and  the  passengers  were  at  the  table,  when 
some  eight  men,  having  uncoupled  the  engine  and  three  empty  box-cars 


456 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


next  to  It  from  the  passenger  and  baggage  cars,  mounted  the  engine, 
pulled  open  the  valve,  put  on  all  steam,  and  left  conductor,  engineer, 
passengers,  spectators,  and  the  soldiers  in  the  camp  hard  by,  all  lost  in 
amazement  and  dumfounded  at  the  strange,  startling  and  daring  act. 

This  unheard-of  act  was  doubtless  undertaken  at  that  place  and  time 
upon  the  presumption  that  pursuit  could  not  be  made  by  an  engine  short 
of  Kingston,  some  thirty  miles  above,  or  from  this  place;  and  that  by 
cutting  down  the  telegraph  wires  as  they  proceeded,  the  adventurers 
could  calculate  on  at  least  three  or  four  hours  the  start  of  any  pursuit  it 
was  reasonable  to  expect.  This  was  a legitimate  conclusion,  and  but  for 
the  will,  energy  and  quick  good  judgment  of  Mr.  Fuller  and  Mr.  Cain, 
and  Mr.  Anthony  Murphy,  the  intelligent  and  practical  foreman  of  the 
wood  department  of  the  State  road  shop,  who  accidentally  went  on  the 
train  from  this  place  that  morning,  their  calculations  would  have  worked 
out  as  originally  contemplated,  and  the  results  would  have  been  obtained 
long  ere  this  reaches  the  eyes  of  our  readers — the  most  terrible  to  us  of 
any  that  we  can  conceive  as  possible,  and  unequaled  by  anything  at- 
tempted or  conceived  since  this  war  commenced. 

Now  for  the  chase! 

These  three  determined  men,  without  a moment's  delay,  put  out  after 
the  flying  train,  on  foot^  amidst  shouts  of  laughter  by  the  crowd,  who, 
though  lost  in  amazement  at  the  unexpected  and  daring  act,  could  not 
repress  their  risibility  at  seeing  three  men  start  after  a train  on  foot, 
which  they  had  just  witnessed  depart  at  lightning  speed.  They  put  on 
all  their  speedj  and  ran  along  the  track  for  three  miles,  when  they  came 
across  some  track-raisers,  who  had  a small  truck-car,  which  is  shoved 
along  by  men  so  employed  on  railroads,  on  which  to  carry  their  tools. 
This  truck  and  men  were  at  once  ‘‘impressed."  They  took  it  by  turns 
of  two  at  a time  to  run  behind  this  truck  and  push  it  along  all  up  grades 
and  level  portions  of  the  road,  and  let  it  drive  at  will  on  all  the  down 
grades.  A little  way  further  up  the  fugitive  adventurers  had  stopped, 
cut  the  telegraph  wires  and  torn  up  the  track.  Here  the  pursuers  were 
thrown  off  pell-mell,  truck  and  men,  upon  the  side  of  the  road.  For- 
tunately, “nobody  was  hurt  on  our  side."  The  truck  was  soon  placed 
on  the  road  again;  enough  hands  were  left  to  repair  the  track  and  with 
all  the  power  of  determined  will  and  muscle,  they  pushed  on  to  Etowah 
Station,  some  twenty  miles  above. 

Here,  most  fortunately,  Major  Cooper’s  old  coal  engine,  the  “ Yonah" 
— one  of  the  first  engines  on  the  State  road — was  standing  out,  fired  up. 
This  venerable  locomotive  was  immediately  turned  upon  her  old  track 
and  like  an  old  racer  at  the  tap  of  the  drum,  pricked  up  her  ears  and 
made  fine  time  to  Kingston, 


Editorial  Account  from  the  Southern  Confederacy,  457 

The  fugitives,  not  expecting  such  early  pursuit,  quietly  took  in  wood 
and  water  at  Cass  Station,  and  borrowed  a schedule  from  the  tank- 
tender  upon  the  plausible  plea  that  they  were  running  a pressed  train, 
loaded  with  powder  for  Beauregard.  The  attentive  and  patriotic  tank- 
tender,  Mr.  William  Russell,  said  he  gave  them  his  schedule,  and  would 
have  sent  the  shirt  off  his  back  to  Beauregard,  if  it  had  been  asked  for. 
Here  the  adventurous  fugitives  inquired  which  end  of  the  switch  they 
should  go  in  on  at  Kingston.  When  they  arrived  at  Kingston,  they 
stopped,  went  to  the  agent  there,  told  the  powder  story,  readily  got  the 
switch-key,  went  on  the  upper  turn-out,  and  waited  for  the  down  way 
freight  train  to  pass.  To  all  inquiries  they  replied  with  the  same 
powder  story.  When  the  freight  train  had  passed,  they  immediately 
proceeded  on  to  the  next  station — Adairsville — where  they  were  to  meet 
the  regular  down  freight  train.  At  some  point  on  the  way  they  had  taken 
on  some  fifty  cross-ties,  and  before  reaching  Adairsville,  they  stopped 
on  a curve,  tore  up  the  rails,  and  put  several  cross-ties  on  the  track — no 
doubt  intending  to  wreck  this  down  freight  train,  which  would  be  along 
in  a few  minutes.  They  had  out  upon  the  engine  a red  handkerchief, 
as  a kind  of  flag  or  signal,  which,  in  railroading,  means  another  train  is 
behind,  thereby  indicating  to  all  that  the  regular  passenger  train  would 
be  along  presently.  They  stopped  a moment  at  Adairsville,  and  said 
Fuller,  with  the  regular  passenger  train,  was  behind,  and  would  wait  at 
Kingston  for  the  freight  train,  and  told  the  conductor  thereon  to  push 
ahead  and  meet  him  at  that  point.  They  passed  on  to  Calhoun,  ^where 
they  met  the  down  passenger  train,  due  here  at  4:20  p.  m.,  and  without 
making  any  stop,  they  proceeded  on,  on,  and  on. 

But  we  must  return  to  Fuller  and  his  party  whom  we  have  uncon- 
sciously left  on  the  old  “ Yonah”  making  their  way  to  Kingston. 

Arriving  there  and  learning  the  adventurers  were  but  twenty  minutes 
ahead,  they  left  the  Yonah’'  to  blow  off,  while  they  mounted  the  en- 
gine of  the  Rome  Branch  Road,  which  was  ready  fired  up  and  waiting 
for  the  arrival  of  the  pasenger  train  nearly  due,  when  it  would  have  pro- 
ceeded to  Rome.  A large  party  of  gentlemen  volunteered  for  the  chase, 
some  at  Acworth,  Allatoona,  Kingston  and  other  points,  taking  such 
arms  as  they  could  lay  their  hands  on  at  the  moment;  and  with  this 
fresh  engine  they  set  out  with  all  speed  but  with  great  “ care  and  caution,” 
as  they  had  scarcely  time  to  make  Adairsville  before  the  down  freight 
train  would  leave  that  point.  Sure  enough,  they  discovered  this  side  of 
Adairsville  three  rails  torn  up  and  other  impediments  in  the  way.  They 
“ took  up”  in  time  to  prevent  an  accident,  but  could  proceed  with  the 
train  no  further.  This  was  most  vexatious,  and  it  may  have  been  in 
some  degree  disheartening,  but  it  did  not  cause  the  slightest  relaxation 


458 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


of  efforts,  and  as  the  result  proved  was  but  little  in  the  way  of  the  dead 
game^  pluck  and  resolution  of  Fuller  and  Murphy,  who  left  the  engine 
and  again  put  out  on  foot  alone  I After  running  two  miles  they  met  the  ^ 
down  freight  train,  one  mile  out  from  Adairsville.  They  immediately 
reversed  the  train  and  ran  backwards  to  Adairsville,  put  the  cars  on  the 
siding  and  pressed  forward,  making  fine  time  to  Calhoun,  where  they 
met  the  regular  down  passenger  train.  Here  they  halted  a moment, 
took  on  board  a telegraph  operator,  and  a number  of  men  who  again 
volunteered,  taking  their  guns  along,  and  continued  the  chase.  Mr.  ^ 
Fuller  also  took  on  here  a company  of  track  hands  to  repair  the  track  as 
they  went  along.  A short  distance  above  Calhoun  they  flushed  their  game 
on  a curve,  where  they  doubtless  supposed  themselves  out  of  danger, 
and  were  quietly  oiling  the  engine,  taking  up  the  track,  etc.  Discover- 
ing that  they  were  pursued,  they  mounted  and  sped  away,  throwing  out 
upon  the  track  as  they  went  along  the  heavy  cross-ties  they  had  prepared 
themselves  with.  This  was  done  by  breaking  out  the  end  of  the  hind-  * 
most  box-car,  and  pitching  them  out.  Thus,  ‘‘nip  and  tuck,’'  they 
passed  with  fearful  speed  Resaca,  Tilton,  and  on  through  Dalton. 

The  rails  which  they  had  taken  up  last  they  took  off  with  them,  be- 
sides throwing  out  cross-ties  upon  the  track  occasionally,  hoping  thereby 
the  more  surely  to  impede  the  pursuit;  but  all  this  was  like  tow  to  the 
touch  of  fire,  to  the  now  thoroughly  aroused,  excited  and  eager  pursuers.  ^ 
These  men,  though  so  much  excited  and  influenced  by  so  much  deter- 
mination, still  retained  their  well-known  caution,  were  looking  out  for 
this  danger  and  discovered  it,  and  though  it  was  seemingly  an  insu- 
perable obstacle  to  their  making  any  headway  in  pursuit,  was  quickly 
overcome  by  the  genius  of  Fuller  and  Murphy.  Coming  to  where  the 
rails  were  torn  up,  they  stopped,  tore  up  rails  behind  them,  and  laid  \ 
them  down  before,  till  they  passed  over  that  obstacle.^  When  the  cross- 
ties were  reached,  they  hauled  to  and  threw  them  off,  and  thus  pro- 
ceeded, and  under  these  difficulties  gained  on  the  fugitives.  At  Dalton 
they  halted  a moment.  Fuller  put  off  the  telegraph  operator,  with  in- 
structions to  telegraph  to  Chattanooga  to  have  them  stopped,  in  case  he 
should  fail  to  overhaul  them.  % 

Fuller  pressed  on  in  hot  chase — sometimes  in  sight — as  much  to  pre- 
vent their  cutting  the  wires  before  the  message  could  be  sent  as  to 
catch  them.  The  daring  adventurers  stopped  just  opposite  and  very 
near  to  where  Colonel  Glenn’s  regiment  is  encamped,  and  cut  the  wires, 
but  the  operator  at  Dalton  had  put  the  message  through  about  two  minutes 
before.  They  also  again  tore  up  the  track,  cut  down  a telegraph-pole, 


^This,  like  many  other  statements  in  the  above  article,  is  an  errror. — W.  P. 


Editorial  Accoimt  from  the  Southern  Confederacy,  459 

and  placed  the  two  ends  under  the  cross-ties,  and  the  middle  over  the 
rail  on  the  track.  The  pursuers  stopped  again  and  got  over  this  impedi- 
ment in  the  same  manner  as  they  did  before — taking  up  rails  behind  and 
laying  them  down  before.  Once  over  this,  they  shot  on,  and  passed 
through  the  great  tunnel,  at  Tunnel  Hill,  being  then  only  five  minutes 
behind.  The  fugitives  thus  finding  themselves  closely  pursued,  un- 
coupled two  of  the  box-cars  from  the  engine,  to  impede  the  progress  of 
the  pursuers.  Fuller  hastily  coupled  them  to  the  front  of  his  engine, 
and  pushed  them  ahead  of  him  to  the  first  turn-out  or  siding,  where  they 
were  left — thus  preventing  the  collision  the  adventurers  intended. 

Thus  the  engine-thieves  passed  Ringgold,  where  they  began  to  fag. 
They  were  out  of  wood,  water  and  oil.  Their  rapid  running  and  inat- 
tention to  the  engine  had  melted  all  the  brass  from  the  journals.  They 
had  no  time  to  repair  or  refit,  for  an  iron  horse  of  more  bottom  was  close 
behind.  Fuller  and  Murphy  and  their  men  soon  came  within  four  hun- 
dred yards  of  them,  when  the  fugitives  jumped  from  the  engine  and  left 
it — ^^three  on  the  north  side  and  five  on  the  south  side — all  fleeing  pre- 
cipitately and  scattering  through  the  thicket.  Fuller  and  his  party  also 
took  to  the  woods  after  them. 

Some  gentlemen,  also  well  armed,  took  the  engine  and  some  cars  of 
the  down  passenger  train  at  Calhoun,  and  followed  up  Fuller  and  Murphy 
and  their  party  in  the  chase,  but  a short  distance  behind,  and  reached  the 
place  of  the  stampede  but  a very  few  moments  after  the  first  pursuers 
did.  A large  number  of  men  were  soon  mounted,  armed,  and  scouring 
the  country  in  search  of  them.  Fortunately  there  was  a militia  muster 
at  Ringgold.  A great  many  countrymen  were  in  town.  Hearing  of  the 
chase,  they  put  out  on  foot  and  on  horseback,  in  every  direction,  in 
search  of  the  daring,  but  now  thoroughly  frightened  and  fugitive  men. 

We  learn  that  Fuller,  soon  after  leaving  his  engine,  in  passing  a cabin 
in  the  country,  found  a mule  having  on  a bridle  but  no  saddle,  and  tied 
to  a fence.  Here' s your  mulef  he  shouted,  as  he  leaped  upon  his  back 
and  put  out  as  fast  as  a good  switch,  well  applied,  could  impart  vigor  to 
the  muscles  and  accelerate  the  speed  of  the  patient  donkey.  The  cry  of 
‘‘Here’s  your  mule!”  and  “Where’s  my  mule?”  have  become  national, 
and  are  generally  heard  when,  on  the  one  hand,  no  mule  is  about,  and 
on  the  other,  when  no  one  is  hunting  a mule.  It  seems  not  to  be  un- 
derstood by  any  one,  though  it  is  a peculiar  Confederate  phrase,  and  is 
as  popular  as  “ Dixie  ” from  the  Potomac  to  the  Rio  Grande.  It  re- 
mained for  Fuller,  in  the  midst  of  this  exciting  chase,  to  solve  the  myste- 
rious meaning  of  this  national  by- word  or  phrase,  and  give  it  a practical 
application. 

All  of  the  eight  men  were  captured,  and  are  now  safely  lodged  in  jail. 


460 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


The  particulars  of  their  capture  we  have  not  received.  This  we  hope  to 
obtain  in  time  for  a postscript  to  this,  or  for  our  second  edition.  They 
confessed  that  they  belonged  to  Lincoln’s  army,  and  had  been  sent  down 
from  Shelby ville  to  burn  the  bridges  between  here  and  Chattanooga; 
and  that  the  whole  party  consisted  of  nineteen  men,  eleven  of  whom  were 
dropped  at  several  points  on  the  road  as  they  came  down,  to  assist  in 
the  burning  of  the  bridges  as  they  went  back. 

When  the  morning  freight  train  which  left  this  city  reached  Big 
Shanty,  Lieutenant  Colonels  R.  F.  Maddox  and  C.  P.  Phillips  took  the 
engine  and  a few  cars,  with  fifty  picked  men,  well  armed,  and  followed 
on  as  rapidly  as  possible.  They  passed  over  all  difficulties,  and  got  as 
far  as  Calhoun,  where  they  learned  the  fugitives  had  taken  to  the  woods, 
and  were  pursued  by  plenty  of  men,  with  the  means  to  catch  them  if  it 
were  possible. 

One  gentleman,  who  went  up  on  the  train  from  Calhoun,  who  has 
furnished  us  with  many  of  these  particulars,  and  who,  by  the  way,  is  one 
of  the  most  experienced  railroad  men  in  Georgia,  says  too  much  praise 
cannot  be  bestowed  on  Fuller  and  Murphy,  who  showed  a cool  judgment 
and  forethought  in  this  extraordinary  affair,  unsurpassed  by  anything  he 
ever  knew  in  a railroad  emergency.  This  gentleman,  we  learn  from 
another,  offered,  on  his  own  account,  $100  reward  on  each  man,  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  villains. 

We  do  not  know  what  Governor  Brown  will  do  in  this  case,  or  what 
is  his  custom  in  such  matters,  but  if  such  a thing  is  admissable,  we  insist 
on  Fuller  and  Murphy  being  promoted  to  the  highest  honors  on  the  road 
— if  not  by  actually  giving  them  the  highest  positions,  at  least  let  them 
be  promoted  by  brevet.  Certainly  their  indomitable  energy  and  quick, 
correct  judgment  and  decision  in  the  many  difficult  contingencies  con- 
nected with  this  unheard-of  emergency,  has  saved  all  the  railroad 
bridges  above  Ringgold  from  being  burned;  the  most  daring  scheme 
that  this  revolution  has  developed  has  been  thwarted,  and  the  tremen- 
dous results  which,  if  successful,  can  scarcely  be  imagined,  much  less 
described,  have  been  averted.  Had  they  succeeded  in  burning  the 
bridges,  the  enemy  at  Huntsville  would  have  occupied  Chattanooga  be- 
fore Sunday  night.  Yesterday  they  would  have  been  in  Knoxville,  and 
thus  had  possession  of  all  East  Tennessee.  Our  forces  at  Knoxville, 
Greenville  and  Cumberland  Gap  would,  ere  this,  have  been  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy.  Lynchburg,  Va. , would  have  been  moved  upon  at  once. 
This  would  have  given  them  possession  of  the  valley  of  Virginia,  and 
Stonewall  Jackson  could  have  been  attacked  in  the  rear.  They  would 
have  possession  of  the  railroad  leading  to  Charlottesville  and  Orange 
Court  House,  as  well  as  the  South  Side  Railroad,  leading  to  Petersburg!! 


Editorial  Account  from  the  Southern  Confederacy,  461 

and  Richmond.  They  might  have  been  able  to  unite  with  McClellan’s 
forces  and  attack  Jo.  Johnston’s  army,  front  and  flank.  It  is  not  by  any 
means  improbable  that  our  army  in  Virginia  would  have  been  defeated, 
captured  or  driven  out  of  the  state  this  week. 

Then  re-enforcements  from  all  the  eastern  and  southeastern  portion 
of  the  country  would  have  been  cut  off  from  Beauregard.  The  enemy 
have  Huntsville  now,  and  with  all  these  designs  accomplished  his  army 
would  have  been  effectually  flanked.  The  mind  and  heart  shrink  ap- 
palled at  the  awful  consequences  that  would  have  followed  the  success 
of  this  one  act.  When  Fuller,  Murphy  and  Cain  started  from  Big  Shanty 
071  foot  to  capture  that  fugitive  engine^  they  were  involuntarily  laughed  at 
by  the  crowd,  serious  as  the  matter  was — and  to  most  observers  it  was 
indeed  most  ludicrous;  but  that  foot-race  saved  us^  and  prevented  the 
consummation  of  all  these  tremendous  consequences. 

One  fact  we  must  not  omit  to  mention  is  the  valuable  assistance 
rendered  by  Peter  Bracken,  the  engineer  on  the  down  freight  train  which 
Fuller  and  Murphy  turned  back.  He  ran  his  engine  fifty  and  a half 
miles — two  of  them  backing  the  whole  freight  train  up  to  Adairsville — 
made  twelve  stops,  coupled  to  the  two  cars  which  the  fugitives  had 
dropped,  and  switched  them  off  on  sidings — all  this,  in  one  hour  and  five 
minutes. 

We  doubt  if  the  victory  of  Manassas  or  Corinth  were  worth  as  much 
to  us  as  the  frustration  of  this  gr^nd  coup  d' etat.  It  is  not  by  any 
means  certain*  that  the  annihilation  of  Beauregard’s  whole  army  at 
Corinth  would  be  so  fatal  a blov/  to  us  as  would  have  been  the  burning 
of  the  bridges  at  that  time  and  by  these  men. 

When  we  learned  by  a private  telegraph  despatch  a few  days  ago, 
that  the  Yankees  had  taken  Huntsville,  we  attached  no  great  importance 
to  it.  We  regarded  it  merely  as  a dashing  foray  of  a small  party  to 
destroy  property,  tear  up  the  road,  etc.,  ala  Morgan.  When  an  ad- 
ditional telegram  announced  the  Federal  force  there  to  be  from  seven- 
teen thousand  to  twenty  thousand,  we  were  inclined  to  doubt — though 
coming  from  a perfectly  honorable  and  upright  gentleman,  who  would 
not  be  apt  to  seize  upon  a wild  report  to  send  here  to  his  friends.  The 
coming  to  that  point  with  a large  force,  where  they  would  be  flanked  on 
either  side  by  our  army,  we  regarded  as  a most  stupid  and  unmilitary 
act.  We  now  understand  it  all.  They  were  to  move  upon  Chattanooga 
and  Knoxville  as  soon  as  the  bridges  were  burnt,  and  press  on  into  Vir- 
ginia as  far  as  possible,  and  take  all  our  forces  in  that  state  in  the  rear. 
It  was  all  the  deepest  laid  scheme  and  on  the  grandest  scale  that  ever 
emanated  from  the  brains  of  any  number  of  Yankees  combined.  It  was 
one  that  was  also  entirely  practicable  on  almost  any  day  for  the  last 


462 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


year.  There  were  but  two  miscalculations  in  the  whole  programme ; 
they  did  not  expect  men  to  start  on  foot  to  pursue  them,  and  they  did 
not  expect  these  pursuers  on  foot' to  find  Major  Cooper’s  old  “ Yonah” 
standing  there  already  fired  up.  Their  calculations  on  every  other  point 
were  dead  certainties,  and  would  have  succeeded  perfectly. 

This  would  have  eclipsed  anything  Captain  Morgan  ever  attempted. 
To  think  of  a parcel  of  Federal  soldiers,  officers  and  privates,  coming 
down  into  the  heart  of  the  Confederate  States — for  they  were  here  in 
Atlanta  and  at  Marietta — (some  of  them  got  on  the  train  at  Marietta 
that  morning,  and  others  were  at  Big  Shanty)  ; of  playing  such  a serious 
game  on  the  State  Road,  which  is  under  the  control  of  our  prompt,  en- 
ergetic and  sagacious  Governor,  known  as  such  all  over  America;  to  seize 
the  passenger  train  on  his  road,  right  at  Camp  McDonald,  where  he  has 
a number  of  Georgia  regiments  encamped,  and  run  off  with  it;  to  burn 
the  bridges  on  the  same  road,  and  go  safely  through  to  the  Federal  lines, 
all  this  would  have  been  a feather  in  the  cap  of  the  man  or  men  who 
executed  it. 

Let  this  be  a warning  to  the  railroad  men  and  everybody  else  in  the 
Confederate  States.  Let  an  engine  never  be  left  alone  a moment.  Let 
additional  guards  be  placed  at  our  bridges.  This  is  a matter  we  specially 
urged  in  The  Confederacy  long  ago.  We  hope  it  will  now  be  heeded. 
Further:  let  a sufficient  guard  be  placed  to  watch  the  government  stores 
in  this  city ; and  let  increased  vigilance  and  watchfulness  be  put  forth 
by  the  watchmen.  We  know  one  solitary  man  who  is  guarding  a house 
in  this  city,  which  contains  a lot  of  bacon.  Two  or  three  men  could 
throttle  and  gag  him,  and  set  fire  to  the  house  at  any  time;  and 
worse,  he  conceives  that  there  is  no  necessity  for  a guard,  as  he  is  some- 
times seen  off  duty,  for  a few  moments — fully  long  enough  for  an  in- 
cendiary to  burn  the  house  he  watches.  Let  Mr.  Shakelford,  whom  we 
know  to  be  watchful  and  attentive  to  his  duties,  take  the  responsibility 
at  once  of  placing  a well-armed  guard  of  sufficient  force  around  every 
house  containing  government  stores.  Let  this  be  done  without  waiting 
for  instructions  from  Richmond. 

One  other  thought.  The  press  is  required  by  the  Government  to 
keep  silent  about  the  movements  of  the  army,  and  a great  many  things 
of  the  greatest  interest  to  our  people.  It  has,  in  the  main,  patriotically 
complied.  We  have  complied  in  most  cases,  but  our  judgment  was 
against  it  all  the  while.  The  plea  is  that  the  enemy  will  get  the  news, 
if  it  is  published  in  our  papers.  Now,  we  again  ask,  what’s  the  use? 
The  enemy  get  what  information  they  want.  They  are  with  us  and  pass 
among  us  almost  daily.  They  find  out  from  us  what  they  want  to  know, 
by  passing  through  our  country  unimpeded.  It  is  nonsense,  it  is  folly, 


Editorial  Account  from  the  Sonthcrn  Confederacy.  463 

to  deprive  our  own  people  of  knowledge  they  are  entitled  to  and  ought 
to  know,  for  fear  the  enemy  will  find  it  out.  We  ought  to  have  a regular 
system  of  passports  over  all  our  roads,  and  refuse  to  let  any  man  pass 
who  could  not  give  a good  account  of  himself,  come  well  vouched  for, 
and  make  it  fully  appear  that  he  is  not  an  enemj,  and  that  he  is  on 
legitimate  business.  This  would  keep  information  from  the  enemy  far 
more  effectually  than  any  reticence  of  the  press,  wTich  ought  to  lay 
before  our  people  the  full  facts  in  everything  of  a public  nature. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


EXTRACT  FROM  ANNUAL  MESSAGE  OF  JOSEPH  E. 
BROWN,  GOVERNOR  OF  GEORGIA  AND  SUPERINTEND- 
ENT OF  THE  WESTERN' AND  ATLANTIC  RAILROAD. 

Milledgeville,  Ga.,  Oct.,  1862. 

“ I ^HE  people  of  the  State  have  been  informed  through  the  medium 
of  the  public  press  of  the  facts  connected  with  the  daring  attempt 
made  by  a band  of  spies,  sent  by  the  authority  of  the  enemy,  to 
burn  the  bridges  on  the  W.  & A.  Railroad.  The  conduct  of  Mr.  Fuller, 
the  conductor,  and  of  some  others  in  the  hazardous  pursuit,  while  the 
spies  were  in  possession  of  the  train,  deserves  the  highest  commendation, 
and  entitles  them  to  the  consideration  of  the  General  Assembly.  I 
therefore  recommend  the  appointment  of  a committee  of  the  two  houses 
to  enquire  into  the  facts  and  report  upon  them,  and  that  such  medals  or 
other  public  acknowledgment  be  awarded  to  the  parties  whose  conduct 
was  most  meritorious,  as  will  do  justice  to  their  services,  and  stimulate 
others  to  like  deeds  of  daring  when  necessary  for  the  public  security.^ 
“Soon  after  this  bold  attempt  to  burn  all  the  bridges  of  the  Road 
(two  of  which  had  been  burned  and  replaced  but  a short  time  previous), 
I felt  it  my  duty  to  organize  a military  Company  to  guard  this  valuable 
property.  Some  time  after  the  Company  had  been  raised,  the  committee 
of  the  House  of  Representatives  visited  the  Road  and  joined  in  a unani- 
mous recommendation  of  the  committee  that  I add  another  company  to 
the  guard.  In  deference  to  the  recommendation  of  the  committee, 
which  my  own  judgment  approved,  I directed  the  organization  of  a 
second  company.  These  companies  now  consist  of  about  150  men  each. 
There  are  sixteen  valuable  bridges,  besides  smaller  ones,  upon  the  Road, 
which  is  a great  thoroughfare,  and  will  be  during  the  war  a great  mili- 
tary necessity.  The  destruction  of  two  or  three  of  these  bridges  over 
the  larger  streams  might  not  only  cause  great  derangement  of  the  busi- 
ness of  the  Road  and  great  inconvenience  to  the  travelling  public,  but 
might  so  delay  military  movements  as  to  cause  the  loss  of  an  im.portant 
victory.  The  only  question  with  me  is  whether  the  two  companies 
should  not  be  increased  to  two  regiments,  and  thoroughly  armed, 
equipped  and  trained,  and  kept  constantly  in  the  service  of  the  state 
until  the  close  of  the  war.” 


^ Gold  medals  were  voted  by  the  Legislature  in  accordance  with  this  recommendation. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


REPORT  OF  JUDGE-ADVOCATE-GENERAL  HOLT  TO  THE 

SECRETARY  OF  WAR. 

“ Judge- Advocate-General’s  Office,  March  27,  1863. 

“ IR: — I have  the  honor  to  transmit  for  your  consideration  the  ac- 

. ^ companying  depositions  of  Corp.  William  Pittenger,  Company 
G,  Second  Regiment,  Ohio  Volunteers;  Private  Jacob  Parrot, 
Company  K,  Thirty-third  Regiment,  Ohio  Volunteers;  Private  Robert 
Buffum,  Company  H,  Twenty-first  Regiment,  Ohio  Volunteers;  Corporal 
William  Reddick,  Company  B,  Thirty-third  Regiment,  Ohio  Volunteers ; 
and  Private  William  Bensinger,  Company  G,  Twenty-first  Regiment,  Ohio 
Volunteers,  taken  at  this  office  on  the  25th  inst. , in  accordance  with 
your  written  instructions,  from  which  the  following  facts  will  appear: 

These  non-commissioned  officers  and  privates  belonged  to  an  ex- 
pedition set  on  foot  in  April,  1862,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  J.  J.  An- 
drews, a citizen  of  Kentucky,  who  led  it,  under  the  authority  of  Gen. 
O.  M.  Mitchel,  the  object  of  which  was  to  destroy  the  communications 
on  the  Georgia  State  Railroad  between  Atlanta  and  Chattanooga. 

“ The  mode  of  operation  proposed  was  to  reach  a point  on  the  road 
where  they  could  seize  a locomotive  and  a train  of  cars,  and  then  dash 
back  in  the  direction  of  Chattanooga,  cutting  the  telegraph  wires  and 
burning  the  bridges  behind  them  as  they  advanced,  until  they  reached 
their  own  lines.  The  expedition  consisted  of  twenty-four  men,  who, 
with  the  exception  of  its  leader,  Mr.  Andrews,  and  another  citizen  of 
Kentucky,  who  acted  on  the  occasion  as  the  substitute  for  a soldier, 
had  been  selected  from  the  different  companies  for  their  known  courage 
and  discretion.  They  were  informed  that  the  movement  was  to  be  a 
secret  one,  and  they  doubtless  comprehended  something  of  its  perils, 
but  Mr.  Andrews  and  Mr.  Reddick  alone  seem  to  have  known  anything 
of  its  precise  direction  or  object.  They,  however,  voluntarily  engaged 
in  it,  and  made  their  way,  in  parties  of  two  or  three,  in  citizens’  dress, 
and  carrying  only  their  side  arms,  to  Chattanooga,  the  point  of  ren- 
dezvous agreed  upon,  where  twenty-two  out  of  the  twenty-four  arrived 
in  safety.  Here  they  took  passage,  without  attracting  observation,  for 
Marietta,  which  they  reached  at  12  o’clock  on  the  night  of  April  ii. 
The  following  morning  they  took  cars  back  again  toward  Chattanooga, 


466 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


and  at  a place  called  Big  Shanty,  while  the  engineers  and  passengers 
were  breakfasting,  they  detached  the  locomotive  and  three  box  cars 
from  the  train,  and  started  at  full  speed  for  Chattanooga.  They  were 
now  upon  the  field  of  the  perilous  operations  proposed  by  the  expedition, 
but  suddenly  encountered  unforeseen  obstacles.  According  to  the 
schedule  of  the  road,  of  which  Mr.  Andrews  had  possessed  himself,  they 
should  have  met  but  a single  train  on  that  day,  whereas  they  met  three, 
two  of  them  being  engaged  in  extraordinary  service.  About  an  hour 
was  lost  in  waiting  for  these  trains  to  pass,  which  enabled  their  pursuers 
to  press  closely  upon  them.  They  removed  rails,  threw  out  obstruc- 
tions on  the  road,  and  cut  the  wires  from  time  to  time,  and  attained, 
when  in  motion,  a speed  of  60  miles  an  hour,  but  the  time  lost  could  not 
be  regained. 

“After  having  run  about  100  miles,  they  found  their  supply  of  wood, 
water  and  oil  exhausted,  while  the  rebel  locomotive  which  had  been 
chasing  them  was  in  sight.  Under  these  circumstances  they  had  no 
other  alternative  but  to  abandon  their  locomotive  and  flee  to  the  woods, 
which  they  did  under  the  orders  of  Mr.  Andrews,  each  one  endeavoring 
to  save  himself  as  best  he  might. 

“ The  expedition  thus  failed  from  causes  which  reflected  neither  upon 
the  genius  by  which  it  was  planned  nor  upon  the  intrepidity  and  discre- 
tion of  those  engaged  in  conducting  it.  But  for  the  accident  of  meeting 
the  extra  trains,  which  could  not  have  been  anticipated,  the  movement 
would  have  been  a complete  success,  and  the  whole  aspect  of  the  war  in 
the  South  and  Southwest  would  have  been  at  once  changed. 

“ The  expedition  itself,  in  the  daring  of  its  conception,  had  the  wild- 
ness of  a romance,  while  in  the  gigantic  and  overwhelming  results  which 
it  sought,  and  was  likely  to  accomplish,  it  was  absolutely  sublime.  The 
estimate  of  its  character  entertained  in  the  South  will  be  found  fully  ex- 
pressed in  an  editorial  from  the  Souther7i  Confederacy^  a prominent  rebel 
journal,  under  date  of  April  15,  and  which  is  appended  to  and  adopted 
as  a part  of  Mr.  Pittenger’s  deposition.  The  editor  says: 

“‘The  mind  and  heart  sink  back  appalled  at  theUare  contemplation 
of  the  consequences  which  would  have  followed  the  success  of  this  one 
act.  We  doubt  if  the  victory  of  Manassas  or  Corinth  were  worth  as 
much  to  us  as  the  frustration  of  this  grand  coup  d'etat.  It  is  not  by  any 
means  certain  that  the  annihilation  of  Beauregard’s  whole  army  at  Corinth 
would  have  been  so  fatal  a blow  to  us  as  would  have  been  the  burning 
of  the  bridges  at  that  time  by  these  men.  ’ 

“ So  soon  as  those  composing  the  expedition  had  left  the  cars  and 
dispersed  themselves  in  the  woods,  the  population  in  the  country  around 
turned  out  in  their  pursuit,  err-'loying  for  this  purpose  the  dogs  which 


Report  of  Judge- Advocate-General  Holt, 


467 


are  trained  to  hunt  down  the  fugitive  slaves  in  the  South.  The  whole 
twenty-two  were  captured.  Among  them  was  private  Jacob  Parrot,  of 
Company  K,  Thirty-third  Regiment,  Ohio  Volunteers.  When  arrested, 
he  was,  without  any  form  of  trial,  taken  possession  of  by  a military 
officer  and  four  soldiers,^  who  stripped  him,  bent  him  over  a stone,  and 
while  two  pistols  were  held  over  his  head,  a lieutenant  in  rebel  uniform 
inflicted  with  a rawhide  upwards  of  100  lashes  on  his  bare  back.  This 
was  done  in  the  presence  of  an  infuriated  crowd,  who  clamored  for  his 
blood  and  actually  brought  a rope  with  which  to  hang  him.  The  object 
of  this  prolonged  scourging  was  to  enforce  this  young  man  to  confess 
to  them  the  objects  of  the  expedition  and  the  names  of  his  comrades, 
especially  that  of  the  engineer  who  had  run  the  train.  Their  purpose 
was,  no  doubt,  not  only  to  take  the  life  of  the  latter  if  identified,  but  to 
do  so  with  every  circumstance  of  humiliation  and  torture  which  they 
could  devise.  Three  times  in  the  process  of  this  horrible  flogging  it  was 
suspended,  and  Mr.  Parrot  was. asked  if  he  would  confess,  but  steadily 
and  firmly  to  the  last  he  refused  all  disclosures,  and  it  was  not  until  his 
tormentors  were  weary  of  their  brutal  work  that  their  task  was  abandoned 
as  useless. 

‘‘  This  youth  was  an  orphan,  without  father  or  mother,  and  without 
any  of  the  advantages  of  education.  Soon  after  the  rebellion  broke  out, 
though  but  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  left  his  trade  and  threw  himself 
into  the  ranks  of  our  armies  as  a volunteer,  and  now,  though  stH4  suffer- 
ing from  the  outrages  committed  on  his  person  in  the  South,  he  is  on  his 
way  to  rejoin  his  regiment,  seeming  to  love  his  country  but  the  more  for 
all  that  he  has  endured  in  its  defense.  His  subdued  and  modest  manner 
while  narrating  the  part  he  had  borne  in  this  expedition  showed  him  to 
be  wholly  unconscious  of  having  done  anything  more  than  performing 
his  simple  duty  as  a soldier.  Such  Spartan  fortitude  and  such  fidelity 
to  the  trusts  of  friendship  and  the  inspirations  of  patriotism  deserve  an 
enduring  record  in  the  archives  of  the  Government,  and  will  find  one, 
I am  sure,  in  the  hearts  of  a loyal  people. 

“ The  twenty-two  captives,  when  secured,  were  thrust  into  the  negro 
jail  at  Chattanooga.  They  occupied  a single  room,  half  under-ground 
and  but  13  feet  square,  so  that  there  was  not  space  enough  for  them  all 
to  lie  down  together,  and  a part  of  them  were,  in  consequence,  obliged 
to  sleep  sitting  and  leaning  against  the  walls.  The  only  entrance  was 
through  a trap  door  in  the  ceiling,  that  was  raised  twice  a day  to  let 
down  their  scanty  meals,  which  were  lowered  in  a bucket.  They  had  no 
other  light  or  ventilation  than  that  which  came  through  two  triple-grated 
windows.  They  were  covered  with  swarming  vermin,  and  the  heat  was 
so  oppressive  that  they  were  often  obliged  to  strip  themselves  entirely 


468 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


of  their  clothes  to  bear  it.  Add  to  this  that  they  were  all  handcuffed, 
and  with  trace  chains,  secured  by  padlocks  around  their  necks,  were 
fastened  to  each  other,  in  companies  of  twos  and  threes.  Their  food, 
which  was  doled  out  to  them  twice  a day,  consisted  of  a little  flour  wet 
with  water  and  baked  in  the  form  of  bread,  and  spoiled  pickled  beef. 
They  had  no  opportunity  of  securing  supplies  from  the  outside,  nor  had 
they  any  means  of  doing  so,  their  pockets  having  been  rifled  to  their  last 
cent  by  the  Confederate  authorities,  prominent  among  whom  was  an 
officer  wearing  the  rebel  uniform  of  a major.  No  part  of  the  money 
thus  basely  taken  was  ever  returned. 

‘‘  During  this  imprisonment  at  Chattanooga,  their  leader,  Mr.  An- 
drews, was  tried  and  condemned  as  a spy,  and  subsequently  executed 
in  Atlanta,  June  7. 

‘‘They  were  strong  and  in  perfect  health  when  they  entered  this 
negro  jail,  but  at  the  end  of  something  more  than  three  weeks,  when 
they  were  required  to  leave  it,  they  were  so  exhausted  from  the  treat- 
ment to  which  they  had  been  subjected  that  they  were  scarcely  able  to 
walk,  and  several  staggered  from  weakness  as  they  passed  through  the 
streets  to  the  cars. 

“ Finally,  twelve  of  the  number,  including  the  five  who  have  deposed, 
and  Mr.  Mason,  of  Company  K,  Twenty-first  Regiment,  Ohio  Volun- 
teers, who  was  prevented  by  illness  from  giving  his  evidence,  were  trans- 
ferred to  the  prison  at  Knoxville,  Tenn.  On  arriving  there,  seven  of 
them  were  arraigned  before  a court  martial,  charged  with  being  spies. 
Their  trial,  of  course,  was  summary.  They  were  permitted  to  be  present, 
but  not  to  hear  the  argument  of  their  own  counsel  or  that  of  the  judge 
advocate.  Their  counsel,  however,  afterward  visited  the  prison  and 
read  to  them  the  written  defense  which  he  made  before  the  court  in  their 
behalf.  The  substance  of  that  paper  is  thus  stated  by  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses, Corporal  Pittenger: 

“ ‘He  (the  counsel)  contended  that  our  being  in  citizens’  clothes  was 
nothing  more  than  what  the  Confederate  Government  itself  had  author- 
ized, and  was  only  what  all  guerillas  in  the  service  of  the  Confederacy 
did  on  all  occasions  when  it  would  be  an  advantage  to  them  to  do  so, 
and  he  recited  the  instance  of  General  Morgan  having  dressed  his  men 
in  the  uniform  of  our  soldiers  and  passed  them  off  as  being  from  the 
Eighth  Pennsylvania  Cavalry  Regiment,  and  by  that  means  succeeded  in 
reaching  a railroad  and  destroying  it.  This  instance  was  mentioned  to 
show  that  our  being  in  citizens’  clothes  did  not  take  from  us  the  protec- 
tion awarded  to  prisoners  of  war^  The  plea  went  on  further  to  state 
that  we  had  told  the  object  of  our  expedition;  that  it  was  a purely  mili- 


Report  of  Judge- Advocate- General  Holt,  469 

tary  one,  for  the  destruction  of  communications,  and  as  such,  lawful, 
and  according  to  the  rules  of  war.  ’ 

‘‘  This  just  and  unanswerable  presentation  of  the  case  appears  to  have 
produced  its  appropriate  impression.  Several  members  of  the  court 
martial  afterward  called  on  the  prisoners  and  assured  them  that  from 
the  evidence  against  them  they  could  not  be  condemned  as  spies;  that 
they  had  come  for  a certain  known  object,  and  not  having  lingered  about 
or  visited  any  of  their  camps,  obtaining  or  seeking  information,  they 
could  not  be  convicted.  Soon  after  all  the  prisoners  were  removed  to 
Atlanta,  Ga.,  and  they  left  Knoxville  under  the  belief  that  their  com- 
rades, who  had  been  tried,  either  had  been  or  would  be  acquitted. 

“ In  the  meantime,  however,  the  views  entertained  and  expressed  to 
them  by  the  members  of  the  court  were  overcome,  it  may  be  safely  as- 
sumed, under  the  prompting  of  the  remorseless  despotism  at  Richmond. 

“On  June  18,  after  their  arrival  at  Atlanta,  where  they  rejoined  the 
* comrades  from  whom  they  had  been  separated  at  Chattanooga,  their 
prison  door  was  opened  and  the  death  sentence  of  the  seven  who  had 
been  tried  at  Knoxville  was  read  to  them.  No  time  for  preparation 
was  allowed  them.  They  were  told  to  bid  their  friends  farewell  and  be 
quick  about  it.  They  were  at  once  tied  and  carried  out  to  execution. 
Among  the  seven  was  Private  Samuel  Robinson,  Company  G,  Thirty- 
third  Ohio  Volunteers,  who  was  too  ill  to  walk.  He  was,  however, 
pinioned  like  the  rest,  and  in  this  condition  was  dragged  from  the.  floor 
where  he  was  lying  to  the  scaffold.  In  an  hour  or  more,  the  cavalry 
escort  which  had  accompanied  them  was  seen  returning  with  the  cart, 
but  the  cart  was  empty;  the  tragedy  had  been  consummated!  On 
that  evening  and  the  following  morning  the  prisoners  learned  from  the 
provost-marshal  and  guard  that  their  comrades  had  died  as  all  true 
soldiers  of  the  Republic  should  die  in  the  presence  of  its  enemies. 

“ Among  the  revolting  incidents  which  they  mentioned  in  connection 
with  this  cowardly  butchery  was  the  fall  of  two  of  the  victims  from  the 
breaking  of  the  ropes  after  they  had  been  for  some  time  suspended.  On 
their  being  restored  to  consciousness  they  begged  for  an  hour  in  which 
to  pray  and  to  prepare  for  death,  but  this  was  refused  them.  The  rope 
was  readjusted,  and  the  execution  at  once  proceeded. 

“Among  those  who  thus  perished  was  Geo.  D.  Wilson,  Company  B, 
Twenty-first  Ohio  Volunteers.  He  was  a mechanic,  from  Cincinnati, 
who,  in  the  exercise  of  his  trade,  had  travelled  much  through  the  States, 
North  and  South,  and  who  had  a greatness  of  soul  which  sympathized 
intensely  with  our  struggle  for  national  life,  and  was  in  that  dark  hour 
filled  with  joyous  convictions  of  our  final  triumph.  Though  surrounded 
by  a scowling  crowd,  impatient  for  his  sacrifice,  he  did  not  hesitate, 


470 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


while  standing  under  the  gallows,  to  make  them  a brief  address.  He 
told  them  that  though  they  were  all  wrong  he  had  no  hostile  feelings 
toward  the  Southern  people,  believing  that  not  they,  but  their  leaders, 
were  responsible  for  the  rebellion;  that  he  was  no  spy,  as  charged,  but 
a soldier  regularly  detailed  for  military  duty;  that  he  did  not  regret  to 
die  for  his  country^  but  only  regretted  the  manner  of  his  death;  and  he 
added,  for  their  admonition,  that  they  would  yet  see  the  time  when  the 
old  Union  would  be  restored  and  when  its  flag  would  wave  over  them 
again;  and  with  these  words  the  brave  man  died.  He,  like  his  com- 
rades, calmly  met  the  ignominious  doom  of  a felon;  but,  happily,  igno- 
minious for  him  and  them  only  so  far  as  the  martyrdom  of  the  patriot 
and  hero  can  be  degraded  by  the  hands  of  rufflans  and  traitors. 

“ The  remaining  prisoners,  now  reduced  to  fourteen,  were  kept  closely 
confined  under  special  guard  in  the  jail  at  Atlanta  until  October,  when, 
overhearing  a conversation  between  the  jailer  and  another  officer,  they 
became  satisfied  that  it  was  the  purpose  of  the  authorities  to  hang  them 
as  they  had  done  their  companions.  This  led  them  to  form  a plan  for 
their  escape,  which  they  carried  into  execution  on  the  evening  of  the 
next  day,  by  seizing  the  jailer  when  he  opened  the  door  to  carry  away 
the  bucket  in  which  their  supper  had  been  brought.  This  was  followed 
also  by  the  seizure  of  the  seven  guards  on  duty,  and  before  the  alarm 
was  given,  eight  of  the  fugitives  were  beyond  reach  of  pursuit.  It  has 
been  since  ascertained  that  six  of  these,  after  long  and  painful  wander- 
ings, succeeded  in  reaching  our  lines.  Of  the  fate  of  the  other  two, 
nothing  is  known.  The  remaining  six  of  the  fourteen,  consisting  of  the 
five  witnesses  who  have  deposed  and  Mr.  Mason,  were  recaptured  and 
confined  in  the  barracks  until  December,  when  they  were  removed  to 
Richmond.  There  they  were  shut  up  in  a room  in  Castle  Thunder, 
where  they  shivered  through  the  winter,  without  fire,  thinly  clad,  and 
with  but  two  small  blankets,  which  they  had  saved  with  their  clothes,  to 
cover  the  whole  party.  So  they  remained  until  a few  days  since,  when 
they  were  exchanged;  and  thus  at  the  end  of  eleven  months,  terminated 
their  pitiless  persecutions  in  the  prisons  of  the  South — persecutions  be- 
gun and  continued  amid  indignities  and  sufferings  on  their  part,  and 
atrocities  on  the  part  of  their  traitorous  foes,  which  illustrate  far  more 
faithfully  than  any  human  language  could  express  it  the  demoniac  spirit 
of  a revolt,  every  throb  of  whose  life  is  a crime  against  the  very  race  to 
which  we  belong. 

Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

‘‘ J.  Holt,  Judge- Advocate-General. 

‘‘Hon.  E.  M.  Stanton,  Secretary  of  War/' 


CHAPTER  XLIL 

CRITICISMS  OF  GENS.  BUELL  AND  FRY. 

But  two  disparaging  criticisms  have  ever  been  offered,  so  far  as  the 
writer  is  aware,  of  the  Mitchel  railroad  raid,  and  these  emanate 
from  substantially  the  one  source,  Gen.  D.  C.  Buell  and  his  Chief 
of  Staff,  Gen.  J.  B.  Fry.  That  some  degree  of  irritation  existed  between 
Gen.  Buell  and  his  adherents  on  the  one  hand  and  Gen.  Mitchel  on  the 
other,  was  understood  during  war  times,  and  is  made  still  more  evident  by 
these  criticisms.  They  would  claim  no  notice  here  if  the  following  letter 
of  Gen.  Buell  had  not  been  printed  in  the  War  Records,  and  the  review 
of  Gen.  Fry  quoted  in  a pension  debate  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  by  some  Southern  Senators  as  the  final  military  verdict  on  the 
nature  and  objects  of  this  railroad  expedition.  Gen.  Buell  writes:* 

Saratoga,  August  5,  1863. 

To  General  L.  Thomas, 

Adjutant  General  U.  S.  A.,  Washington  City,  D.  C.  _ 

Sir, — In  the  ‘‘Official  Gazette”  of  the  21st  ultimo,  I see  a report  of 
Judge-Advocate-General  Holt,  dated  the  27th  of  March,  relative  to  '‘an 
expedition  set  on  foot  in  April,  1862,  under  the  authority  and  “ direction” 
as  report  says,  “of  General  O.  M.  Mitchel,  the  object  of  which  was  to 
destroy  the  communication  on  the  Georgia  State  Railroad  between  At- 
lanta and  Chattanooga.”  The  expedition  was  “ set  on  foot”  under  my 
authority ; the  plan  was  arranged  between  Mr.  Andrews,  whom  I had  haJ 
in  empolyment  from  shortly  after  assuming  command  in  Kentucky,  and 
my  Chief  of  Staff,  Colonel  James  B.  Fry;  and  General  Mitchel  had 
nothing  to  do  either  with  its  conception  or  execution,  except  to  furnisi: 
from  his  command  the  soldiers  who  took  part  in  it.  He  was  directed  ta 
furnish  six;  instead  of  that  he  sent  twenty-two.  Had  he  conformed  to 
the  instructions  given  him  it  would  have  been  better;  the  chances  of 
success  would  have  been  greater,  and  in  any  event  several  lives  would 
have  been  saved.  The  report  speaks  of  the  plan  as  an  emanation  of 
genius;  and  of  the  results  which  it  promised  as  “ absolutely  sublime. ” 
It  may  be  proper,  therefore,  to  say,  that  this  statement  is  made  for  the 

^ War  Records,  Series  i.  Vol.  X.  (i)  page  634. 


4/2  Daring  and  Suffering. 

sake  of  truth,  and  not  to  call  attention  to  the  extravagant  colors  in  which 
it  has  been  presented. 

Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

[Signed]  D.  C.  BUELL,  Major-General.  ^ 

Even  Gen.  Fry  finds  it  necessary  to  explain  that  Buell  wrote  the 
above  in  ignorance  of  the  facts,  inexcusable  ignorance,  as  they  had  been 
widely  published.  Fry  says,  General  Buell  knew  only  of  the  first  ex- 
pedition, the  one  he  authorized.”  Of  course,  this  deprives  his  statement 
of  all  value,  as  far  as  the  second  expedition  is  concerned. 

The  remarks  of  Gen.  Fry  are  contained  in  the  Journal  of  the  Military 
Service  Institution  for  1882,  in  a very  eulogistic  editorial  notice  of  the 
book  ^‘Capturing  a Locomotive.”  Fry  declares  the  book  to  be the 
most  thrilling  story  of  the  rebellion;”  and  adds  ‘‘No  romance  contains 
more  of  danger,  pluck,  resolution,  endurance,  suffering,  gloom,  and  hope 
than  this  truthful  account  of  an  actual  occurrence  in  our  War  of  Re- 
bellion.” 

After  such  high  praise  it  may  seem  invidious  to  answer  the  criticisms 
made  by  this  writer,  on  the  military  character  of  the  enterprise,  and  to 
show  where  he  was  mistaken  as  to  the  actual  military  situation.  But 
the  truth  of  history  seems  to  require  that  confident  and  unwarranted 
statements  should  not  be  allowed  to  pass  unchallenged.  General  Fry 
declares: 

“ The  destruction  of  bridges  between  Marietta  and  Chattanooga  would 
not  have  enabled  General  Mitchel  to  take  the  latter  place  (i).  If  his 
instructions  (2)  or  the  military  conditions  (3)  had  justified  him  in  an 
attempt  to  capture  Chattanooga — which  they  did  not — the  preservation 
of  the  bridge  over  the  Tennessee  would  have  been  essential  to  his  suc- 
cess (4).  The  enemy  had  only  to  burn  that  structure,  as  they  did  when 
Mitchel’s  troops  approached  it,  April  29th  (5)  in  order  to  check  an  ad- 
vance on  Chattanooga.  Furthermore,  if  Mitchel’s  party  had  succeeded 
in  burning  bridges  between  Marietta  and  Chattanooga,  that  would  not 
have  prevented  the  reinforcement  of  the  latter  place,  as  the  regular  rail- 
road route  through  East  Tennessee  was  open,  and  in  the  enemy’s 
possession  (6),  and  it  was  from  the  east,  and  not  from  the  south,  where 
there  were  but  few  if  any  available  troops  (7)  until  Corinth  was  evacu- 
ated, that  the  place  was  most  likely  to  be  reinforced.  Mitchel’s  bridge- 
burners,  therefore,  took  desperate  chances  to  accomplish  objects  of  no 
substantial  advantage  (8).” 

It  would  be  difficult  to  condense  more  errors  and  baseless  assertions 
into  a single  paragraph.  I have  marked  them  by  figures,  and  the  reader 


Criticisms  of  Gens,  Buel  and  Fry,  473 

who  will  attentively  consider  the  evidence,  will  perhaps  conclude  that  the 
authority  of  General  Fry  Is  not  sufficient  to  end  all  controversy. 

(1)  Is  a mere  matter  of  opinion. 

(2)  Is  specious,  for  General  Buell  in  a letter  of  instruction  to  Gen- 
eral Mitchel  uf  March  27th  1862,^  enumerates  a number  of  things  which 
General  Mitchel  might  do  in  certain  contingencies,  among  which  the 
capture  of  Chattanooga  is  not  included.  But  he  calls  them  mere  sug- 
gestions. It  was  never  claimed  that  Buell  ordered  the  capture  of  Chat- 
tanooga; but  he  did  not  give  such  clear  and  rigid  orders  as  would  have 
prevented  Mitchel  from  moving  in  that  direction  had  the  latter  judged 
it  wise.  Buell  says:  ‘‘It  is  not  necessary  to  point  out  to  you  how  this 
force  (that  placed  under  Mitchel’s  orders)  can  be  concentrated  either 
for  advance  or  defense.”  “ I do  not  think  it  necessary  to  do  more  than 
suggest  these  general  features  to  you.  ” “ You  will  understand  well  how  to 
guard  against  them  (possible  advances  of  the  enemy)  or  take  advantage 
of  them  according  to  circumstances.”  Such  language  leaves  a detached 
commander  great  discretion,  and  if  Mitchel  had  been  able  to  go  to  Chat- 
tanooga, he  would  not  have  been  insubordinate  in  doing  so,  if  he  had 
also  provided  properly  for  his  special  trust  of  guarding  Nashville. 

(3)  Is  purely  a matter  of  opinion.  What  military  conditions  will 
justify  depends  largely  on  the  officer  judging. 

(4)  Is  a strange  assertion.  Mitchel  did  carefully  preserve  this  bridge^ 
and  states  that  he  did  it  with  the  hope  of  an  advance  to  Chattanooga 

(5)  Is  also  erroneous.  Mitchel  saved  the  main  bridge  at  that  time, 
and  declares  that  the  short  span  which  the  enemy  burned  is  of  small 
value,  and  that  he  can  cross  to  the  other  side  whenever  he  desires.^ 

(6)  Gen.  Fry  seems  to  be  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the  East  Ten- 
nessee R.  R.  crossed  Chickamauga  Creek  very  close  to  its  junction  with 
the  Western  and  Atlantic  R.  R. , and  that  its  bridge  over  that  stream, 
would  also  have  been  involved  in  the  proposed  bridge-burning,  thue 
isolating  Chattanooga  from  the  East  as  well  as  from  the  South. 

(7)  This  is  sufficiently  answered  by  Gen.  E.  Kirby  Smith,  who  re- 
ports six  complete  regiments^  already  on  the  way  from  the  Souths  while  the 
utmost  he  can  spare  from  the  East  is  four  regiments!^ 


^ War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  2,  page  71. 

^Mitchel  to  Sec.  Chase,  April  19th,  1863,  “ I spared  the  Tennessee  bridges  near 
Stevenson  in  the  hope  that  I migl  t be  permitted  to  march  on  Chattanooga,”  War  Rec- 
ords, Series  I.,  Vol.  X.,  Part  i,  page  113. 

^Mitchel  to  Buell,  April  29,  1863.  War  Records,  Series  I.,  VoL  X.,  Part  i,  page 
655. 

Official  Report  of  E.  Kirby  Smith,  April  13th.  War  Records,  Series  I.,  Vol.  X., 
Part  I,  page  643. 


474* 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


(8)  Is  the  conclusion  reached  from  the  extraordinary  series  of  state- 
ments in  this  paragraph.  General  Fry  may  haVe  some  information  which 
proves  the  object  of  the  Mitchel  bridge-burners  to  have  been  “ of  no  sub- 
stantial advantage,”  but  it  does  not  appear  in  this  paragraph,  which 
seems  to  have  been  hastily  written  in  entire  misapprehensian  of  the  facts. 
Possibly  the  present  writer  is  partly  to  blame  for  these  misunderstand- 
ings, because  “Capturing  a Locomotive”  was  written’ without  access  to 
War  Records^  and  did  not,  therefore,  present  the  whole  subject  with  the 
fullness  of  evidence  that  is  now  possible. 

The  only  other  point  of  adverse  criticism  made  by  Gen.  Fry  is  much 
stronger.  He  claims  that  the  treatment  of  the  prisoners  by  the  Confed- 
erates was  not  blamable,  arguing  that  our  being  in  disguise  deprived  us 
of  the  privileges  of  prisoners  of  war.  The  reader  of  the  foregoing  pages 
will  see  that  he  probably  misunderstands  the  writer’s  position.  He  says: 

“ Only  eight  were  executed.  Instead  of  blaming  the  winner  for 
taking  one-third  the  stakes,  the  author  should  have  thanked  him  for  not 
enforcing  his  right  to  the  other  /7^^-thirds.  ” In  a private  letter  written 
subsequently,  Gen.  Fry  explains  that  he  did  not  mean  to  say  that  we 
were  under  any  special  obligation  of  gratitude  to  the  enemy  for  the  lives 
that  were  spared,  as  it  probably  was  not  intentional  mercy,  but  an  over- 
sight, adding  that  if  Davis  had  known  all  the  facts,  he  would  have 
probably  ordered  our  immediate  trial  and  execution.  This  is  very  prob- 
able, indeed. 

General  Fry  twice  refers  to  the  omission  of  Mitchel  to  report  this  ex- 
pedition, and  assumes  that  this  was  a tacit  confession  of  the  insufficiency 
of  its  object.  There  is  no  evidence  that  he  did  not  write  or  forward  a 
report.  Mitchel  complains  that  many  of  his  reports  are  not  received, 
and  the  reader  of  the  War  Records  will  not  fail  to  notice  how  often 
documents  referred  to  are  declared  to  be  “ not  found.  ” The  fact  that 
no  report  by  Gen.  Mitchel  has  been  discovered,  where  so  many  have 
been  lost,  is  by  no  means  conclusive  proof  that  he  made  none.  Such  a 
report  may  have  been  made  and  lost  in  transmission  or  afterwards,  as 
vast  numbers  have  been;  or  it  may  yet  be  found;  or  with  his  communi- 
cations so  insecure,  he  may  A/ell  have  feared  to  write  the  facts  lest  they 
should  fall  into  the  enemy’s  hands,  as  some  of  his  important  personal 
papers  did. 


CHAPTER  XLIIL 

THE  RE-BURIAL  OF  ANDREWS. 

ON  page  428  a brief  notice  is  given  of  the  finding  of  the  body  of  An- 
drews which  had  long  been  supposed  to  be  lost.  It  is  fitting  that 
an  incident  of  such  pathetic  interest  should  be  fully  recorded. 
Fred.  J.  Cooke  of  the  American  Press  Association  accidentally  heard  of 
a family  who  professed  to  know  where  Andrews  had  been  buried.  This 
was  in  1887  while  I was  engaged  in  preparing  a new  edition  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  raid;  and  knowing  my  anxiety  on  this  subject  he  at  once 
sought  them  out.  The  household  of  John  H.  Mashburne  had  continued 
in  the  same  spot  during  the  twenty-five  intervening  years,  and  had  never 
lost  sight  of  the  scene  of  a tragedy  which  had  deeply  interested  them. 
The  father-in-law  of  Mr.  Mashburne  had  witnessed  the  execution.  The 
place  of  the  scaffold  was  one  square  from  Peachtree  Street  on  the  right 
of  Ponce  De  Leon  Avenue,  on  a hill-top.  This  father  saw  the  body  cut 
down  and  followed  it  down  to  the  adjoining  ravine,  watching  the^hasty 
burial.  For  some  reason  he  kept  watch  over  the  grave  as  long  as  he 
lived,  often  going  out  on  Sunday  afternoons  and  pointing  out  to  Mr. 
Mashburne  and  others  “the  grave  of  the  leader  of  the  engine  thieves. “ 
Yet  the  number  of  those  who  were  thus  shown  the  spot  was  compara- 
tively small,  and  until  the  matter  was  taken  up  by  Mr.  Cooke  it  did  not 
reach  any  one  who  had  interest  or  authority  to  act  in  the  matter. 

After  the  visit  described  on  page  427,  I wrote  the  facts  of  the  discov- 
ery to  the  United  States  Secretary  of  War,  Wm.  C.  Endicott,  who  di- 
rected Major  E.  B.  Kirke  of  the  U.  S.  Army,  stationed  at  Atlanta,  to 
excavate  for  the  remains  with  a view  of  removing  them  to  Chattanooga, 
all  expenses  being  borne  by  the  government. 

On  the  nth  of  April,  1887,  just  25  years  after  the  raid,  the  melan- 
choly work  was  undertaken.  Frank  M.  Gregg  in  a pamphlet  published 
in  Chattanooga  in  1891  thus  describes  it: 

“Major  Kirke,  U.  S.  A.,  Dr.  C.  L.  Wilson,  President  of  the  Na- 
tional Surgical  Institute,  Mr.  Fred.  J.  Cooke,  Mr.  John  H.  Mashburne 
as  guide,  and  a negro  laborer,  with  pick  and  shovel,  started  out  on  a 
journey  which  proved  to  be  the  sequel  of  a journey  commenced  twenty- 
five  years  before  by  the  man  whose  ashes  were  now  sought  for.  Turn- 


476 


Darmg  and  Suffering, 


ing  to  the  right  from  Peachtree  Street,  they  went  their  way  down  Ponce 
De  Leon  circle,  two  squares  to  Juniper  Street;  turning  into  this  street, 
they  continue  one  square  to  the  first  cross  street;  into  this  unused  high- 
way about  twenty  steps  they  stopped  near  a large  rock,  beneath  a pine 
tree,  at  a depression  in  the  ground,  from  which  the  blackberry  bushes 
grew  a tangled  mass.  This  depression,  nearly  filled  with  leaves  caught 
by  the  bushes,  was  the  spot  which  Mr.  Mashburne  had  been  told  for 
years  was  the  one  where  Andrews  was  buried.  Under  his  directions  the 
laborer  began  his  work,  handling  his  shovel  with  care,  lest  it  should 
shatter  the  bones;  each  shovel  full,  as  it  was  thrown  out,  was  carefully 
examined  by  all.  At  the  depth  of  three  feet  their  research  was  re- 
warded, and  Mr.  Mashburne’s  story  verified  by  the  discovery  of  a por- 
tion of  a skeleton.  One  by  one  the  bones  were  laid  aside  by  Dr.  Wil- 
son, who  identified  them  as  being  human,  and  the  remains  of  a large 
man.  The  skeleton  exhumed  was  placed  carefully  in  a box  and  re- 
moved, under  the  supervision  of  Major  Kirke  to  Dr.  Wilson’s  Surgical 
Institute.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it  now,  the  real  facts  corrobo- 
rated the  resident’s  story,  and  the  identification  of  the  physician  present, 
that  the  bones  found  were  those  of  a man  of  the  size  of  Andrews,  was 
ample  proof  that  this  was  the  body  of  the  leader  of  this  perilous  expedi- 
tion, which  for  twenty-five  years  had  lain  in  an  unknown  grave,  lost 
from  the  care  of  admiring  comrades,  hid  away  from  the  decorations 
which  yearly  crown  the  soldiers’  graves.  The  remains  of  Andrews  were 
thus  recovered  from  the  earth  which  had  been  his  winding-sheet  and 
funeral  mantle,  and  on  the  record,  which  classed  his  remains  as  those  of 
a brave  unknown,  was  inscribed  the  name,  ‘James  J.  Andrews.’ 

“The  absence  of  the  right  forearm  bone  was  accounted  for  by  Mr. 
Mashburne  as  follows.  He  was  at  the  grave  one  Sunday  afternoon  with 
a friend  from  East  Tennessee,  a Mr.  McKamie;  he  was  telling  him  that 
it  was  that  of  the  leader  of  the  ‘engine  thieves.’  This  friend  pushed 
his  cane  down  into  the  soft  earth  and  forced  up  a bone  which  he  carried 
off  with  him  as  a relic.  Maj.  Kirke  after  having  satisfied  himself  by 
further  research  and  inquiry  that  the  skeleton  exhumed  was  that  of  An- 
drews, commenced  preparations  for  their  removal  to  Chattanooga,  there 
to  be  reinterred  in  the  National  cemetery.  Not  a piece  of  the  manacles 
in  which  Andrews  was  hung  was  found  with  his  body,  although  it  is  an 
actual  fact,  so  witnesses  say  who  saw  the  execution  and  burial,  that  his 
shackles  were  never  removed.  It  is  hardly  probable  that  they  would 
rust  away  in  this  time.  It  is  a rumor,  only,  that  Andrews’  remains  were 
at  one  time  dug  up.  .Of  this  Mr.  Averille,  in  the  Atlanta  Journal,  of 
April  14th,  1887,  says  as  follows:  ‘Andrews’  remains  are  said  to  have 
been  exhumed  a day  or  two  after  they  were  first  buried,  for  the  purpose 


The  Re- Burial  of  Andreivs. 


477 


of  securing  his  clothing,  and  immediately  reinterred.  From  the  fact 
that  several  bones  are  missing,  it  is  supposed  that  they  must  have  after- 
wards been  disturbed.'  It  is  believed  by  many  that  such  is  the  fact, 
but  the  writer  could  find  nothing  to  substantiate  such  supposition. 

^‘When  Post  45,  of  Chattanooga,  first  heard  of  the  recovery  of  An- 
drews’ remains,  they  at  once  offered  their  services  to  take  charge  of  the 
body;  and  with  due  ceremony,  furnish  it  an  escort  from  their  ranks,  and 
give  them  a soldier’s  burial.  Their  offer  was  at  once  accepted  and  Maj. 
Kirke  with  an  escort  sent  the  remains  from  Atlanta  to  Chattanooga, 
leaving  the  G.  A.  R.  Post  at  that  city  to  prepare  the  programme  and 
arrange  the  ceremonies  for  the  last  interment. 

‘‘On  Sunday  afternoon  the  i6th  of  October,  1887,  one  of  those  per- 
fect days,  a gem  of  Indian  summer,  when  the  verdure  begins  to  don  hei 
variegated  autumnal  robes,  and  the  elements  are  at  peace,  along  the 
graveled  drives  of  the  National  Cemetery,  moved  a cortege  bearing  An- 
drews’ remains,  over  whom  the  last  sad  rites  were  soon  to  be  pro- 
nounced. At  an  open  grave  the  last  of  a semi-circle  of  eight,  the  pro- 
cession stops,  surrounded  by  a concourse  of  three  thousand  people,  the 
remains  are  lowered  to  rest  by  the  side  of  his  comrades  with  whom  he 
gave  his  life.  The  roll  was  now  complete.  Ross,  Wilson,  Shadrack, 
Scott,  Slavens,  Robertson,  Andrews,  not  one  was  missing,  together  in 
the  ‘narrow  house  of  dreamless  darkness’  they  await,  to  answer  the 
bugle  call  of  eternity. 

“ The  tribute  to  Andrews,  pronounced  by  Hon.  A.  H.  Pettibone, 
Department  Commander  of  Tennessee  G.  A.  R.,  on  this  occasion  was 
an  eloquent  eulogy,  chaste  in  language,  fertile  in  thought,  sublime  in 
subject.  The  following  is  the  op'ening  paragraph: 

“ ‘Comrades  of  the  Grand  Army : We  are  now  assembled  in  this  silent 
city  of  the  dead  to  here  finally  inurn  the  bones  and  pay  a tribute  of  re- 
spect and  grateful  remembrance  to  the  memory  of  a patriot  who  had  all 
the  fervor  and  earnestness  of  Nathan  Hale,  and  a courage  equal  to  any 
of  the  three  hundred ‘Spartans  who  fell  with  Leonidas  at  the  pass  of 
Thermopylae!  It  is  needless  to  say  that  we  have  come  to  make  a last- 
ing grave  in  this  beautiful  National  cemetery  for  one  who  was  a leader 
in  an  exploit  of  romantic  daring  which  equals  any  of  the  tales  of  medie- 
val chivalry!  The  story  of  his  exploit  will  ever  remain  as  one  of  the 
most  thrilling  and  picturesque  in  the  thousands  of  noted  events  which 
marked  the  progress  of  our  great  civil  war.  ’ ” 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

AN  OHIO  MONUMENT  TO  THE  RAIDERS  PROPOSED. 

“ On  fame’s  eternal  camping  ground 
- Their  silent  tents  are  spread 

.And  glory  guards  with  solemn  round 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead.” 

^T^HE  subject  of  a fitting  monument  to  the  Andrews  Raiders  was 
I widely  discussed  and  many  propositions  were  made  looking  to 
that  end.  There  was,  however,  a practical  difficulty  about  the  site. 
Whether  the  seizing  of  the  train  at  Big  Shanty,  the  places  of  execution  in 
Atlanta,  or  some  spot  in  a National  Cemetery  should  be  selected,  was  a 
matter  affording  room  for  difference  of  opinion,  and  voices  were  given  in 
favor  of  each  of  these.  When  the  bodies  of  the  seven  soldiers  executed 
in  Atlanta  were  interred  by  government  authority  on  a beautiful  hill-slope 
of  the  National  Cemetery  at  Chattanooga,  this  was  considered  the  most 
eligible  site,  for  here,  as  nowhere  else,  the  column  and  the  graves  would 
be  cared,  for  by  the  Nation  and  by  the  local  inhabitants.  In  1887 
Major  Smith  of  the  American  Press  Association  proposed  to  purchase 
the  two  sites  where  the  scaffolds  had  stood  for  Memorial  purposes,  but 
they  could  not  be  secured.  When  the. body  of  Andrews  had  been  recov- 
ered and  removed  to  Chattanooga  as  narrated  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
all  doubt  as  to  place  was  ended,  and  the  agitation  for  building  became 
more  earnest.  A proposition  was  made  by  G.  A.  R.  Post  45,  of  Chat- 
tanooga, to  the  Posts  of  the  United  States  for  a general  contribution  by 
the  order  for  the  erection  of  the  monument.  The  response  was  very 
favorable,  but  before  it  had  gone  very  far  the  Ohio  State  Legislature 
took  up  the  same  work  on  the  ground  that  the  Raiders  were  all  from 
three  Ohio  regiments.  Post  45  then  sent  a strongly  written  petition  to 
the  legislature  giving  reasons  for  desiring  the  memorial  to  be  at  Chatta- 
nooga and  offering  to  be  responsible  for  its  fitting  care  and  decoration. 

One  of  the  earliest  workers  in  the  sarne  field  was  Hon.  Thomas  .Cow- 
gill,  who  represented  in  the  Ohio  Senate  the  district  in  which  the  rela- 
tives of  Marion  Ross  resided.  But  to  Stephen  B.  Porter,  editor  of  the 
Columbus  Evening  Dispatch,  a former  member  of  Co.  G,  Second 
Ohio  Regiment,  who  had  a personal  knowledge  of  the  events  of  the 


* 


The  Captured  “General”  decorated  at  the  G.  A.  R.  National  Encampment  at  Columbus^  Ohio,  August,  1888.  From  a PI 


Art  Ohio  Monument  to  the  Raiders  Proposed.  481 

Raid  from  the  first,  and  was  a warm  personal  friend  of  the  writer,  the 
monument  scheme  was  more  indebted  than  to  any  other  person.  By  his 
exertions,  all  the  survivors  of  the  Raid  were  specially  invited  to  attend 
the  Grand  Army  Encampment  at  Columbus,  Ohio,  and  one  only  was  ab- 
sent. The  Western  and  Atlantic  Railroad  kindly  sent  the  old  captured 
engine,  the  General,”  to  the  same  gathering,  and  what  was  still  better, 
put  it  in  the  charge  of  Conductor  Fuller;  so  that  the  captors  and  the 
captured,  the  pursuers  and  the  pursued  were  all  together  for  the  first 
time  since  the  war!  Public  curiosity  to  see  the  men  and  the  engine  was 
extreme.  A track  was  laid  out  to  a square  a short  distance  from  the 
R.  R.  depot,  and  a guard  placed  around  the  locomotive  to  prevent  it  from 
being  carried  away  piecemeal  by  the  relic  hunters;  and  during  the 
whole  encampment  it  was  surrounded  by  a great  crowd  of  eager  spec- 
tators. The  Raiders  were  accorded  a place  in  the  centre  of  the  great 
procession  and  excited  universal  interest.  A reunion  or  camp-fire  was 
held  by  the  Raiders  in  the  open  air  in  front  of  the  state  house,  and  was 
attended  by  many  thousands  of  the  old  soldiers — at  least  as  many  as 
could  get  within  hearing  distance.  Different  members  of  the  band 
made  short  addresses  giving  recollections  of  their  strange  experiences. 
The  writer  gave  a complete  summary  of  the  story  and  asked  that  a mon- 
ument be  erected  for  the  purpose  of  showing  in  this  tangible  form  that 
the  Raiders  were  recognized,  not  as  men  who  had  justly  died  for  of- 
fences against  the  laws  of  war,  but  as  martyrs  for  our  country.  Let 
such  a monument  be  Ohio’s  answer  to  the  Atlanta  scaffold!  Conductor 
Fuller  was  then  introduced  by  me  and  delivered  a speech  of  great  power 
and  beauty.  He  began: 

‘‘  I shall  not  attempt  to  entertain  you,  with  that  trained  rhetoric  and 
eloquence  possessed  and  displayed  on  this  occasion  by  the  learned  gen- 
tleman who  has  preceded  me.  But  my  friends,  I assure  you  that  I re- 
gard it  as  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  of  my  life  to  have  the  privilege  of 
following  the  distinguished  gentleman  once  moreP 

This  sally  was  received  with  great  laughter  and  applause.  In  a well- 
worded  speech.  Fuller  set  forth  very  clearly  the  Confederate  side  of  the 
chase.  He  was  listened  to  with  almost  breathless  attention  when  he 
told  the  story  of  heroism  on  the  Atlanta  scaffold  which  he  had  witnessed. 
After  this  the  strong  appeal  with  which  he  closed  had  great  weight, 
especially  as  coming  from  such  a source.  ‘‘  Now  before  I close  my 
remarks,  I desire  to  say  to  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic  and  espe- 
cially to  the  people  of  Ohio  that,  though  you  have  ample  opportunity  and 
abundance  of  wealth,  you  are  unable  to  do  too  much  for  the  surviving 
members  of  the  expedition,  nor  can  you  do  too  much  in  memory  of  the 
dead.” 


482  Daring  and  Suffering. 

The  following  incident  is  taken  from  the  “ Andrews  Raiders”  by  F.  M. 
Gregg: 

‘'While  Captain  Fuller  was  at  Columbus,  a very  pathetic  scene  tran- 
spired, by  which  a widow’s  sorrows  of  years’  standing  were  alleviated,  / 
and  her  unkind  feelings  toward  those  whom  she  thought  had  wronged 
her  were  forgotten.  Mrs.  Samuel  Slavens,  wife  of  one  of  the  raiders 
executed  at  Atlanta,  was  left  with  a family  of  three  small  children.  The 
struggles  of  life  did  not  subdue  her  feelings  of  hatred  toward  those  who 
had  robbed  her  of  a protector  and  husband.  The  meeting  took  place  at 
a reception  at  which  the  victims  of  one  man’s  perseverance  shook  him 
kindly  by  the  hand,  without  a thought  of  reviling  him  for  the  misery  or 
sufferings  he  had  caused  them  to  endure.  An  eye-witness,  Stephen  B. 
Porter,  gives  the  meeting  of  the  widow,  Mrs.  Slavens,  and  Capt., 
Fuller  as  follows:  ‘All  of  the  surviving  raiders,  except  two,  were 
present,  together  with  the  family  of  Mrs.  Feltrows.  All  were  standing 
in  a semicircle;  I was  conducting  Captain  Fuller  around  the  circle,  in- 
troducing him  to  the  men  whom  he  had  never  seen  as  free  men  before, 
but  had  known  them  as  captives  in  a prison  cell.  It  was  a dramatic 
scene  of  the  most  subdued  nature,  especially  the  meeting  between  Mrs. 
Slavens  and  Captain  Fuller.  She  was  about  in  the  middle  of  the  circle. 
As  we  approached  her,  I saw  she  was  very  much  excited,  her  face  was 
flushed,  and  the  years  of  sorrow  lingered  on  her  brow.  No  one  can 
ever  tell  the  thoughts  of  this  woman  as  she  took  the  hand  of  the  man 
who  was  responsible  for  her  husband’s  death.  When  I mentioned  her 
name,  I seemed  to  observe  a perceptible,  but  momentary  feeling  in  the 
nature  of  a slight  shock  come  into  Captain  Fuller’s  strong  frame.  He 
spoke  so  gently,  however,  and  kindly,  that  the  lady  was  deeply  touched. 
They  sat  down  beside  each  other,  and  conversed  in  undertones.  What 
they  said  they  alone  know,  though  the  house  was  silent,  and  we  were 
all  in  the  room. 

“‘It  was  a touching  scene,  and  one  which  those  present  will  never 
forget.  When  they  had  finished  their  talk.  Captain  Fuller  was  intro- 
duced to  the  remainder  of  the  party.  Mrs.  Slavens  was  a changed 
woman  after  her  meeting  with  Captain  Fuller,  for  she  said  she  felt  all 
right  now  toward  the  men  who  captured,  tried  and  executed  her  hus- 
band. I have  no  doubt  but  that  it  made  her  life  happier. 

Mr.  Porter,  on  the  assembling  of  the  sixty-eighth  Ohio  State  Legis- 
lature, sent  each  member  of  that  body  a copy  of  the  “ Evening  Dis- 
patch,” with  the  addresses  of  the  Raiders  and  of  Capt.  Fuller.  This 
was  the  final  argument  in  favor  of  the  bill,  as  on  March  20th,  1889,  it 
became  a law,  granting  $5, coo  for  a monument  to  be  erected  in  the 
National  Cemetery  at  Chattanooga  to  the  Andrews  Raiders.  Not  a 


An  OJiio  Monument  to  the  Raiders  Proposed,  483 

single  negative  vote  was  recorded  against  it  in  either  house,  and  in  the 
debate  all  conceded  it  was  but  doing  tardy  justice  to  those  who  so 
eminently  deserved  it.  To  Captain  Porter,  as  much  as  to  any  other 
person,  is  the  credit  due  of  obtaining  this  appropriation,  first  endorsed 
by  the  memorial  from  the  Chattanooga  Post. 

Governor  Foraker  appointed  a monument  commission  to  select  a 
proper  design  and  to  have  erected  a fitting  structure.  As  such  the 
members  were  chosen  from  the  three  regiments  of  Sills’  brigade,  the 
2nd,  2ist  and  33rd  Ohio,  from  whose  ranks  members  of  the  party  were 
selected.  They  were  Judge  Thaddeus  Minshall,  a captain  of  the  33rd, 
now  on  the  supreme  bench  of  the  State  of  Ohio;  Hon.  Earl  W.  Merry, 
sergeant  major  of  the  21st  Ohio,  now  a banker  at  Bowling  Green,  Ohio; 
and  Stephen  B.  Porter,  a sergeant  in  Company  G,  2nd  Ohio.  No  wiser 
selection  of  men  could  have  been  made  for  this  purpose,  than  the  three 
who  were  appointed.  Judge  Minshall  applied  his  years  of  legal  and 
practical  life  to  his  new  mission.  Mr.  Merry,  as  a man  of  business, 
gave  his  executive  ability  to  the  work,  and  Mr.  Porter,  urged  by  patriot- 
ism, which  had  caused  him  to  champion  the  cause  when  others  were 
silent.  Together  this  monument  commission  have  each  applied  their 
best  ability  to  the  erection  of  a memorial  which  is  destined  to  stand  for 
ages;  attesting  the  wisdom  of  this  commission  in  the  selection  of  a de- 
sign, and  their  labors  in  carrying  it  out. 

“ It  was  thought  by  the  commission  that  the  most  fitting  monument 
would  be  old  ‘General’  itself  and  placed  as  the  monument  above  the 
men  who  made  it  famous,  but  the  Western  & Atlantic  road  valued  it  too 
highly  as  a memento  to  sell  it.  After  the  inspection  of  many  designs 
from  different  artists  all  agreed  on  the  one  selected  as  being  the  most 
fitting  and  appropriate  to  celebrate  the  event.  The  idea  of  a locomotive 
mounted  on  a marble  column  was  given  by  the  writer  of  this  volume  at 
their  request  and  was  at  once  adopted,  thus  making  it  different  from  all 
other  monuments.”  The  pattern  selected  was  that  of  an  engine  in 
bronze,  a miniature  facsimile  of  the  “General,”  the  Western  & Atlantic 
engine  on  which  the  raiders  made  their  trip  from  Big  Shanty  to  Ring- 
gold.  Surmounting  a Vermont  marble  pedestal  nine  feet  six  inches 
long,  five  feet  three  inches  wide  and  seven  feet  six  inches  high,  the 
whole  to  be  twelve  feet  above  the  ground.  The  front  of  the  die  con- 
tains the  inscription,  “Ohio’s  Tribute  to  the  Andrews’  Raiders,  1862, 
Erected  1890.”  The  unveiling  was  to  have  been  last  October,  but  was 
postponed  until  the  decoration  of  the  Nation’s  dead  on  memorial  day; 
this  was  not  decided  until  too  late  to  change  the  date.  The  left  of  the 
die  contains  the  names: 


484 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


James  J.  Andrews,  Flemingsburg,  Ky. 

Marion  A.  Ross,  Co.  A.  2nd  Ohio  Vol.  Inf. 

George  D.  Wilson,  “ B “ ‘‘ 

Perry  G.  Shadrack,  K “ ‘‘ 

John  M.  Scott,  “ F 21st  “ “ 

Samuel  Slavens,  “ E 33rd 

Samuel  Robertson,  “ G ‘‘  ‘‘  “ “ 

William  H.  Campbell,  Salineville,  Ohio. 

These  being  the  members  who  were  executed  at  Atlanta,  Ga.  An- 
drews was  not  an  enlisted  soldier,  was  a scout,  spy,  and  contraband 
merchant  but  of  great  service  to  the  army.  Campbell  arrived  at  the 
camp  of  the  2nd  Ohio  on  the  day  of  the  departure  of  the  raiders  and  left 
with  his  friend  Shadrack  without  enlisting;  he  was  always  recognized 
as  a member  of  Co.  K,  2nd  Ohio,  and  gave  himself  as  such  on  trial* 

On  the  right  of  the  die  are  the  names  of  the  eight  men  who  escaped 
from  jail  at  Atlanta,  Ga. 

James  A.  Wilson,  Co.  C.  21st  Ohio  Vol.  Inf. 

Mark  Wood,  “ “ 

J.  R.  Porter,  “ “ 

W.  W.  Brown,  “ F 

William  Knight,  E ‘‘ 

D.  A.  Dorsey,  ‘‘  H 33rd  ‘‘ 

Martin  J.  Hawkins  A 

John  Wollam,  Co.  C “ 

“To  the  rear  of  the  die  the  names  of  those  who  were  exchanged  from 
Libby  Prison. 

William  Pittenger,  Co.  G.  2nd  Ohio  Vol.  Inf. 

Jacob  Parrot,  “ K 33rd  “ 

William  Reddick,  “ B “ 

Robert  Buffum,  “ H 21st  “ 

William  Bensinger,  “ G ' “ 

Elisha  H.  Mason,  “ K “ 

“ This  design  selected,  its  execution  was  let  to  the  Smith  Granite 
Company  of  Westerly,  R.  I.,  who  have  moulded  this  fruit  of  imagination 
into  material,  bearing  on  its  imperishable  face  of  marble  the  story  of 
the  living  and  dead. 

“ The  completion  and  unveiling  of  this  tardy  justice  to  the  dead  and 
recognition  of  the  living  is  the  last  chapter  of  the  daring  act  begun  29 
years  ago.  History  knows  no  parallel  to  it,  fiction  touches  no  domain, 
kindred  to  it,  tradition  tells  naught  that  compares  to  it;  as  long  as  the 
spirit  of  chivalry  and  freedom  finds  its  abode  in  the  heart  of  man  the 
daring  hardihood  of  these  men  will  never  be  forgotten. 


* From  “Andrews  Raiders.”  by  F.  M.  Gregg,  Chattanooga,  1891. 


Ohio’s  Tribute  to  Andrews  Raiders. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


DEDICATION  OF  THE  OHIO  MONUMENT. 

The  unveiling  of  the  Andrews  monument  on  the  30th  of  May,  1891, 
was  a unique  and  interesting  celebration.  Surviving  raiders 
came  from  Ohio,  Kansas,  Oklahoma,  Nebraska,  Iowa  and  Cali- 
fornia. Excursion  trains  were  run  at  reduced  rates  from  Columbus  and 
Cincinnati.  The  whole  town  of  Chattanooga,  now  grown  to  be  a great 
city,  made  holiday.  Great  trouble  was  taken  to  mark  every  spot  con- 
nected with  the  raid,  and  committees  of  citizens  dispensed  a lavish  hos- 
pitality. Many  thousand  old  soldiers  and  not  a few  ex-confederates 
were  present.  Two  or  three  days  in  advance  visitors  began  to  arrive, 
and  the  stir  and  joyous  bustle  afforded  a most  striking  contrast  to  the 
first  time  the  raiders  had  looked  upon  the  village  of  Chattanooga. 
During  this  time  the  newspapers  teemed  with  sketches,  incidents  and 
illustrations.  The  headquarters  of  the  party  was  at  the  Read  House— 
a magnificent  hotel  opposite  the  Atlanta  depot  and  on  the  site  of  the 
Crutchfield  House  to  which  I had  been  carried  in  chains  twenty-nine 
years  before.  Such  sharp  contrasts  could  not  easily  grow  common- 
place. Very  enjoyable  also,  though  quite  fatiguing,  was  the  evening 
reception  in  which  thousands  of  men,  women  and  children  crowded 
around  the  raiders  for  a word  or  grasp  of  the  hand.  There  we  met 
many  prison  comrades,  especially  from  East  Tennessee,  for  the  first  time 
since  we  had  been  immured  together. 

The  30th  of  May  was  a perfect  and  sabbath-like  day.  The  well- 
dressed  people  crowded  toward  the  National  Cemetery  early  in  the 
morning,  and  the  green  slopes  and  the  shadows  of  the  great  trees  were 
soon  gay  with  the  great  crowds.  A large  stand  was  erected  beside  the 
veiled  monument,  and  by  the  hour  of  opening  at  2 p.m.  it  was  estimated 
that  from  8,000  to  10,000  persons  were  compactly  seated  on  the  smooth 
sward.  The  great  crowd  was  as  orderly  and  respectful  as  if  in  a church. 
The  usual  impressive  services  for  the  decoration  of  the  13,000  graves  in 
the  cemetery  first  were  performed,  and  at  the  hour  fixed  the  dedication 
program  was  entered  upon.  On  the  stand  were  the  notables  of  Chat- 
tanooga and  of  the  G.  A.  R.  of  several  States;  the  orator  of  the  day, 
ex-Governor  Foraker  of  Ohio,  under  whose  administration  the  work  had 


488 


Daring  and  Suffering, 


been  begun,  and  other  speakers;  the  raiders;  the  monument  commission 
whose  labors  were  now  concluded ; and  most  pathetic  of  all,  the  relatives 
of  the  executed  raiders  who  had  so  long  mourned  the  tragedy  at  Atlanta, 
but  who  were  now  to  be  comforted  as  they  learned  by  word  and  deed 
that  the  sacrifice  of  the  lives  of  their  loved  ones  could  never  be  forgot- 
ten. 

There  was  prayer  by  Rev.  T.  C.  Warner;  a welcome  by  Department 
Commander  Gahagan,  which  was  extended  to  Confederate  as  well  as 
Union  veterans;  and  Judge  Minshall  of  the  Ohio  Supreme  Court,  one 
of  the  monument  commission,  gave  the  reasons  for  the  State  of  Ohio 
providing  such  a memorial.  '' 

Then  followed  a touching  part  of  the  program  to  which  the  people 
had  been  looking  forward  for  hours.  Little  Marion  A.  Ross,  nephew 
and  namesake  of  the  raider  Marion  A.  Ross  of  the  2nd  Ohio,  pulled  the 
cord  which  unveiled  the  beautiful  and  graceful  monument.  Among  the 
mass  of  floral  tributes  was  one  sent  by  President  Harrison. 

Hon.  H.  B.  Case  then,  in  a ringing  speech,  introduced  the  orator  of 
the  day,  ex-Governor  Foraker. 

The  address  of  this  accomplished  orator  was  nearly  two  hours  in 
length  and  had  been  thoroughly  prepared.  He  spoke  with  great  in- 
tensity and  with  his  whole  heart  in  the  effort.  Sometimes  the  people 
were  hushed  to  silence  and  tears  and  again  aroused  to  almost  uncon- 
trolable  enthusiasm.  The  whole  speech  was  a masterpiece  of  condensa- 
tion. The  story  of  the  raid  was  never  better  or  more  compactly  told, 
or  its  unique  place  in  history  more  completely  set  forth.  No  epitome 
can  do  justice  to  this  magnificent  speech,  but  a few  salient  points  will  be 
quoted.  He  said: 

^‘We  are  here  in  the  name,  by  the  authority  and  on  behalf  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Ohio,  to  dedicate  the  monument  they  have  erected 
to  the  sacred  purposes  it  is  intended  to  subserve. 

We  have  come,  therefore,  at  the  bidding  of  a great  and  far  distant 
State,  to  gather  about  these  graves,  as  the  accredited  representatives  of 
her  four  millions  of  people. 

‘‘  If  these  men  had  been  great  commanders,  great  scholars,  great 
statesmen,  or  great  citizens,  in  any  ordinary  sense  of  the  term,  our 
presence  here  would  need  no  explanation.  But  they  were  the  very  op- 
posite. They  were  simply  typical  volunteer  Ohio  boys,  hardly  out  of 
their  teens,  without  name,  family,  influence,  or  station,  to  cause  them 
to  be  remembered  and  honored,  as 'they  are  remembered  and  honored 
to-day. 

Why  is  it,  then,  that  we  are  here  ? What  purposes  are  we  seeking  to 


Dedication  of  the  Ohio  Monument. 


489 


promote  ? Why  should  the  General  Assembly  of  a great  State  turn  aside 
from  its  ordinary  cares  and  duties  to  take  such  action  as  has  been  men- 
tioned ? Why  should  a Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  the  two  dis- 
tinguished and  honored  citizens  who  are  his  associates  on  the  commis- 
sion labor,  as  they  have,  with  zealous  pride  to  discharge  the  duties  that 
have  been  intrusted  to  them  ? 

“ The  answer  is  plain  and  simple. 


Upon  these  particular  men  fell  an  uncommon  misfortune.  They  not 
only  lost  their  lives,  but  they  lost  them  in  such  a way  as  to  place  a 
stigma  upon  their  memory. 

“ Ohio  is  here  to-day  to  remove  that  stigma.  By  this  action  she  re- 
claims them  from  all  imputation  of  crime,  and  effaces  forever  the  igno- 
miny of  a felon’s  death.  She  proclaims  to  the  world  and  future  genera- 
tions that  they  were  neither  thieves  nor  marauders,  but  brave  and  hon- 
orable men  and  soldiers;  that  their  punishment  was  unmerited,  and  that 
their  names  shall  shine  on  the  roll  of  honor  among  the  brightest  of  all 
that  illumine  the  pages  of  our  history. 

It  is  but  another  added  to  the  many  illustrations  the  world  has  given 
of  the  impotency  of  blind  malice  to  blacken  virtue,  disfigure  worth  and 
pervert  the  truth. 

“ Socrates  has  been  all  the  nearer  and  dearer  to  the  world’s  generations 
because  compelled  to  drink  the  fatal  hemlock.  Cicero  has  grown  con- 
tinually greater  and  grander  through  all  the  centuries  that  his  name  has 
outlived  the  wicked  madness  that  condemned  him  to  death.  And  as 
truth  and  justice  have  vindicated  these  and  thousands,  so  too  have  they 
vindicated  those  whom  we  are  here  to  honor. 

“ This  monument  is  our  visible  and  enduring  testimonial  of  that  fact. 
We  erect  and  dedicate  it  in  an  impressive  presence.  Not  only  are  we 
in  the  midst  of  the  dead,  but  we  are  surrounded  with  bloody  fields  and 
historic  heights.  Every  spot  on  which  the  eye  rests  is  hallowed  ground.  ” 

The  two  points  especially  insisted  on  by  Governor  Foraker  were  the 
full  military  character  and  great  value  of  the  objects  of  the  expedition 
and  the  cruel  and  unmerited  severity  of  the  treatment  of  the  prisoners 
culminating  in  the  terrible  death  of  those  for  whom  the  monument  was 
erected.  The  impression  made  was  profound  and  lasting. 

Captain  S.  B.  Porter  made  a short  but  felicitous  address  of  thanks  to 
local  committees  and  the  two  Chattanooga  G.  A.  R.  Posts,  45  and  2, 
which  was  responded  to  by  Col.  Wood,  Jno.  A.  Patton,  and  Mrs. 
Hattie  S.  Stewart  on  behalf  of  the  G.  A.  R.  Sons  of  Veterans,  and 
Woman’s  Relief  Corps,  after  which  the  writer  closed  with  prayer. 


Ago 


Daring  and  Suffering. 


Some  remarks  were  also  made  by  Capt.  Fuller  and  by  Anthony 
Murphy  and  the  assembly  dissolved,  thus  closing  a memorable  day. 

On  the  succeeding  day  the  Western  & Atlantic  Railroad  provided  a 
special  train  for  the  raiders  and  their  friends  to  run  over  the  historic 
road  to  Atlanta,  stopping  just  where  and  remaining  as  long  as  the  raiders 
directed.  Conductor  Fuller  and  Murphy  were  also  in  the  company  and 
a large  number  of  Ohio  visitants.  Most  of  the  raiders  had  not  been 
over  the  road  since  the  war  and  were  thrillingly  interested  in  each  way- 
mark  of  former  days.  The  only  circumstance  to  mar  the  dramatic 
completeness  of  this  ride  was  that  we  were  running  southward  instead 
of  northward  and  took  each  place  in  reverse  order.  We  first  stopped 
at  the  point  where  the  train  was  abandoned  after  the  chase  was  over, 
and  the  course  of  the  different  fugitives  was  discussed  by  pursuers  and 
pursued.  The  tunnel,  Dalton,  Calhoun,  Adairsville,  were  also  very  in- 
teresting stopping-points,  but  at  Kingston,  where  we  had  waited  an  hour 
amid  gathering  trains,  and  at  Big  Shanty  (Kenesaw),  the  interest  was  al- 
most painful,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  twenty-nine  years  had  rolled  away 
and  we  were  again  in  the  midst  of  the  conflict.  Many  persons  in  the 
various  towns  who  heard  of  this  strange  excursion  came  to  the  various 
points  at  which  stops  were  made,  and  not  a few  claimed  to  have  seen 
either  the  passage  of  the  captured  locomotive  or  to  have  met  the  pris- 
oners in  their  chains.  When  Atlanta  was  reached  we  once  more  looked 
upon  the  scenes  of  the  daring  escape  from  prison  and  the  heroism  unto 
death  of  our  comrades. 

The  next  day  we  returned  to  Chattanooga  and  then,  lingeringly  and 
reluctantly,  parted  to  our  several  homes  in  distant  States — probably  to 
meet  no  more  till  the  general  roll-call  above! 


— And  yet — as  I write  the  country  is  gathering  toward  the  great  Co- 
lumbian Fair  at  Chicago,  and  arrangements  are  already  made  by  which 
the  captured  locomotive,  “The  General,”  will  be  taken  also.  Probably 
most  of  the  raiders  will  see  each  other  once  more ! 


